'he  Great-  Mam  mo  thin  Reform  Convention.     Mr.  Trickel bosom  '3 
Pathetic  Appeal       P.  231. 


,~4 


W 

THE 


TANGLETOWN  LETTERS: 


BEING 


THE    REMINISCENCES,    OBSERVATIONS,    AND    OPINIONS 
OF   TIMOTHEUS    TRAP,    ESQ. 


INCLUDING  A  REPORT  OF  THE 


GREAT  MAMMOTIIIC  REFORM  CONVENTION. 


EDITED  BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 
"RECORDS  OP  THE  BUBBLETON  PARISH,"  ETC. 


Requeuing  the  reader,  if  he  should  find  here  and  there  something  to  please  him.torest  assured  tbat 

tt  was  written  expressly  for  intelligent  readers  like  himself;  but  entreating  him,  should  he  find  anything  to  dislike, 
tc  tolerate  it  as  one  of  these  articles  which  the  author  has  been  obliged  to  write  for  readers  of  less  Defined  tasto. 

— WASHINGTON  IRVINO. 


BUFFALO: 

WANZEE,  M9KIM  &   CO 
1856. 


w 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856, 
BY  WANZER,  McKIM  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Northern  District 
of  New  York. 


e.  B.  F1LTON, 
STEREOTTPKR,  .  .  .  BUFFALO. 


DEDICATOEY. 


To  BERTHA , 

IN  ITALY. 

WHEN  I  read  your  first  foreign  letter — written 
at  Florence  —  I  confess  to  have  experienced  a 
momentary  disappointment.  The  emotion  was 
natural — almost  inevitable.  Not  a  trace  of  the 
enthusiasm  of  travel,  of  the  excitement  of  ever- 
changing  scenes,  was  visible  on  your  page.  Not  a 
word  about  the  glories  of  Art,  amid  which  you 
had  moved  for  days,  as  in  one  continuous  and 
inexhaustible  gallery.  Scarcely  an  allusion  to  that 
Historic  Mausoleum,  where  eight  centuries  lie 
entombed  with  their  magnificent  trophies,  like 
barbaric  Conquerors  sleeping  beneath  their  spoils. 

You  wrote  —  as  you  would  have  written  from 


4  DEDICATORY. 

our  obscurest  native  village  —  about  Friendship, 
Duty,  and  Home.  Nothing  you  had  seen  in  storied 
Italy,  moved  you  like  the  hallowed  images  which 
those  words  represent;  no  light  from  those  cher 
ishing  skies — no  enchantment  of  ravishing  Art  or 
gray  historic  sign,  could  win  your  loyal  heart  from 
its  honored  and  loving  allegiance  to  these — holy 
words  in  a  nation's  nomenclature!  —  Friendship, 
Duty,  and  Home. 

I  recalled  all  I  had  ever  read  of  the  fair  City 
you  have  been  permitted  to  greet — its  great  Cathe 
dral,  marble-cased,  dating  from  the  thirteenth  cen 
tury,  and  yet  incomplete — emulating  the  deliberate 
maturing  of  the  primeval  strata,  and  conscious,  as 
it  were,  of  living  for  eternity ;  St.  Lorenzo,  with 
its  mausoleum  of  kings,  its  monuments  of  the 
Medici,  and  Michael  Angelo's  famous  statues  of 
Day  and  Night,  Twilight  and  Dawn;  affluent  St. 
Croce,  with  its  museum  of  Art,  and  its  relics  of 
the  gifted  and  stately  dead  —  spreading  its  shelter- 


DEDICATOEY.  5 

ing  arch  over  the  ethereal  dust  of  Angelo  and 
Alfieri;  and,  lying  around  those  glorious  walls, 
that  rival  Rome  in  the  treasures  they  enclose  — 
the  gardens  and  villas  that  are  silvered  by  the 
winding  Arno. 

Musing  on  these  —  the  enchantments  that  sur 
round  you  in  a  foreign  land — I  have  honored  the 
simplicity  and  fidelity  of  the  heart  that  still 
reserved  its  most  vital  feelings  for  the  offices  of 
Duty,  and  the  communions  of  Friendship  and 
Home. 

That  fidelity  which  you  have  exhibited  amid 
the  blandishments  of  trans-Atlantic  lands,  I  have 
attempted  to  emulate  in  my  humble  enterprise  in 
Literature. 

For  Literature  is  full  of  captivating  invitations, 
as  a  foreign  land  is  of  novel  and  seductive  scenes. 
The  writer,  like  the  traveller,  has  a  choice  of 
objects,  and  may  aim  at  either  luxuriant  self-in 
dulgence  or  permanent  benefit — may  write  either 


6  DEDICATORY. 

to  pamper  the  whims  of  the  public,  and  secure  a 
transient  popularity,  or  to  cast  into  kindred  hearts 
the  vitality  of  his  living  thought,  without  inquiring 
how  it  may  react  upon  his  own  fortunes  or  interest. 

As  you  have  journeyed  with  a  higher  purpose 
than  mere  amusement,  so  I  have  written  —  feeling 
that  the  writer,  like  the  traveller,  is  responsible 
for  his  opportunities. 

I  might  have  written  a  more  popular  book  than 
this  will  prove,  and  might  have  given  more  dra 
matic  interest  to  the  characters  and  scenes  that 
occupy  these  pages.  But  I  had  special  objects  to 
which  these  considerations  were  subservient — ob 
jects  which  you  will  be  at  no  loss  to  discover,  and 
with  which  you  will  not  fail  to  sympathize. 

It  is  no  affectation  of  modesty  to  say — now 
that  these  sheets  are  going  out  to  meet  their 
fate — that  I  am  by  no  means  elated  with  my  work. 
Written  during  isolated  hours — appropriated  with 
difficulty  from  an  exacting  profession — it  is  not 


DEDICATORY.  7 

what  I  would  fain  have  made  it,  with  better  gifts 
and  ampler  leisure.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  it 
must  go  out  on  its  errand;  and  I  think  that  there 
is  no  one  in  the  wide  wrorld  who  will  receive  it 
with  more  generous  favor,  or  view  its  faults  more 
leniently,  than  the  early  friend  to  whom  I  venture 
to  inscribe  it. 

A  man  who  has  the  temerity  to  publish,  may  be 
supposed  to  have  written — not  for  the  eyes  of 
partial  friends,  alone — but  for  strangers  and  aliens 
as  well — for  all  whom  a  favoring  fate  (that  is,  the 
bookseller)  can  seduce  to  his  pages.  He  may  not 
shelter  himself,  therefore,  behind  the  lenient  judg 
ment  of  those  who  are  willing  to  pardon  his  book 
because  it  happens  to  be  his  indiscretion ;  but  must 
be  forearmed  against  the  possible  verdict  of  others, 
who  have  no  private  motives  for  showing  him 
mercy. 

Still,  this  icy  certainty  can  not  quench  the 
pleasure  I  feel  in  the  thought,  that  this  book  will 
go  to  many,  as  a  memento  of  happy  experiences 


8  DEDICATORY. 

and  faithful  friendship — recalling  many  a  sunny 
day,  and  some  cloudy  hours,  in  the  years  that  have 
faded  and  vanished;  —  that  it  may  have  some 
chance  of  being  read  by  household  groups,  with 
which  I  have  sustained  most  intimate  and  affec 
tionate  relations;  —  and  that  its  message — humble 
as  it  is — may  be  heard  in  those  familiar  homes 
whose  genial  light  and  love  beam  on  my  heart, 
from  the  scene  of  my  daily  cares. 

Wheresoever  it  may  go,  attend  it,  O  peace  of 
my  heart !  And  when  it  greets  a  face  that  memory 
has  enshrined,  may  a  happy  reminiscence  give  it 
favor. 

These  lines  will  meet  you,  Bertha  —  months 
hence,  I  fear — perhaps  when  you  are  turning 
from  Rome  to  follow  the  summer  up  the  Apen 
nines — perhaps  in  secluded  Switzerland — perhaps 
in  jubilant  Paris. 

They  will  remind  you  of  another  summer — 
already  ancient  in  the  chronology  of  our  expe- 


DEDICATORY.  9 

rience  —  when  Life  was  more  an  enchantment 
(because  more  a  mystery)  than  it  is  to-day,  but 
scarcely — let  me  hope  —  so  sublime  in  its  aspect 
and  its  meaning.  They  will  recall  the  timorous 
ambition — the  meek  ardor,  and  silent  endeavor  — 
with  which  the  modest  maiden  anticipated  the 
woman's  destiny,  and  grew  familiar  with  the  part 
she  was  to  act  in  the  coming  scene.  They  would 
recall  (could  you  ever  forget)  one  whose  memory 
is  endeared — not  to  yourself  alone,  or  to  me — but 
to  the  thousands  who  know  his  worth  and  were 
blessed  by  his  ministry — generous,  intrepid,  loyal, 
upright  spirit,  that  never  saddened  a  human  crea 
ture — till  he  bade  the  world  good-night!  When 
I  think  of  him — of  all  his  goodness,  honor,  sym 
pathy — I  feel  that  this  volume  could  not  go  on  its 
course  with  a  better  savor,  than  with  his  high 
worth  embalmed  in  one  of  its  initial  pages. 

And  now,  0  Friend — associated  with  that  pre 
cious  Long  Ago  to  which  every  heart  turns  so 


10  DEDICATORY. 

tenderly — allow  me  to  place  these  trivial  papers 
in  your  hand.  And  while,  in  widely-severed  scenes, 
it  is  given  us  to  live  and  strive,  may  they  prove  a 
not  unpleasing  memento  of  your  native  land,  and 
of  the  varied  experience  by  which  it  is  consecrated. 


CONTENTS. 


PRELIMINARY, w 

LETTER  FIRST, 

In  which  Mr.  Trap  demonstrates  the  great  moral  propo 
sition,  that  wisdom  is  better  than  gold,  and  introduces  us 
to  a  friend  worth  knowing, 19 

LETTER  SECOND, 

In  which  Mr.  Trap  relates  a  story,  the  like  of  which  some 
persons  can  verify,  and  sets  his  face  like  a  flint  against  one  of 
our  popular  vices, 28 

LETTER  THIRD, 

Showing  Mr.  Trap's  domestic  arrangements,  the  good  for 
tune  of  an  idle  man,  and  some  incidental  glimpses  of  human 
nature, 40 

LETTER  FOURTH, 

Mr.  Trap  is  visited  by  two  notable  females,  and  considerably     . 
edified  by  his  friend,  Peskiewitcb, 49 


12  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  FIFTH, 

Mr.  Trap  is  put  in  possession  of  a  remarkable  literary  secret, 
and  a  question  of  the  first  importance  is  almost  discussed,    .    65 

LETTER  SIXTH, 

Mr.  Trap  is  assailed,  both  in  his  principles  and  his  temper ; 
and  marvels  at  the  doctrines  of  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,    ...     61 

LETTER  SEVENTH, 

Being  an  exhibition  of  taste  in  matters  literary  and  conven 
tional, 67 

LETTER  EIGHTH, 

Containing  Peskiewitch's  eloquent  and  magnanimous  defence 

of  Mrs.  Harrowscratch, 74 

LETTER  NINTH, 

Showing  how  Mr.  Trap  himself  became  a  reformer,  though 
not  one  of  the  popular  school, 79 

LETTER  TENTH, 

In  which  Amelia  re-appears,  and  Mr.  Trap  is  pensive  and 
melancholy, ; 87 

LETTER  ELEVENTH, 

In  which  Mr.  Trap  gives  evidence  of  not  being  politically 

"  sound,"  and  gives  also  a  report  of  Dr.  Fibloug's  sermon,     .     94 

LETTER  TWELFTH, 

Describing  Mr.  Trap's  further  tribulation  with. Mrs.  Harrow- 
scratch,  and  the  departure  of  that  adventurous  female,     .    .  101 


CONTENTS.  13 

LETTER  THIRTEENTH, 

Affords  another  glimpse  of  Mr.  Trap's  beneficence,  and  of  hia 
political  affinities;  closing  with  an  alarm, 103 

LETTER  FOURTEENTH, 

Describing  Mr.  Trap's  miserable  journey  with  Belshazzar,  and 

an  ala-inhig  incident  by  the  way, 109 

LETTER  FIFTEENTH, 

Describing  the  night  drive,  a  nervous  conversation,  and  the 
frightful  discovery  made  on  that  exciting  occasion,  .  .  .  .119 

LETTER  SIXTEENTH, 

Describing  how  they  arrived  at  the  tavern,  and  how  Mr.  Trap 
was  induced  to  join  a  circle  of  rapping  spiritualists  —  also 
how  he  met  an  inestimable  acquaintance, 130 

LETTER  SEVENTEENTH, 

In  which  Mr.  Trap  threatens  the  spiritualists  with  common 
sense,  at  which  they  are  somewhat  disgusted,  and  a  violent 
sensation  is  finally  produced,  greatly  to  the  prejudice  of  Bel 
shazzar,  1S9 

LETTER  EIGHTEENTH, 

In  which  is  brought  to  light  the  incredible  wickedness  of 
Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  and  the  sudden  confusion  of  that  in 
comparable  person, 147 

LETTER  NINETEENTH, 

Exhibiting  Mr.  Trap  in  one  of  his  moralizing  moods,  and 
also  affording  a  glimpse  of  the  wise  old  gentleman  as  critic ; 


14  CONTENTS. 

the  whole  letter  being  less  dull  than  might  have  been  ex 
pected,  163 

LETTER  TWENTIETH, 

In  which  ia  shown  how  the  apple  of  discord  got  into  Mr. 
Trap's  church,  and  his  dubious  success  as  grand  pacificator,  .  169 

LETTER  TWENTY-FIRST, 

Containing  an  allusion  to  Dr.  Fiblong,  and  a  strain  of  .decla 
mation  more  truthful  than  complimentary, 172 

LETTER  TWENTY-SECOND, 

In  which  Mr.  Trap  confesses  his  heresy,  and  discloses  the 
terrible  tragedy  of  his  domestic  life, ,,  177 

LETTER  TWENTY-THIRD, 

In  which  Mr.  Trap  confesses  to  having  visited  Amelia  again, 
and  describes  her  last  interview  with  Chatterton,  ....  204 

THE    VICISSITUDES     OF    A     PORCELAIN 
PERSON, 

Found  in  Amelia's  portfolio, 213 

LETTER  TWENTY-FOURTH, 

Mr.  Trap  hears  Philemon  Blotus  dilate  on  spiritualism,  and 
gives  us  his  impressions  with  the  most  admirable  frankness — 
a  very  "injudicious"  letter,  with  nothing  to  recommend  it 
but  honesty  and  common  sense, .  243 

LATER  FROM  TANGLETOWN, 

Arrival  of  the  Fire-Eater  train  —  Health  of  Mr.  Trap— Pro- 


CONTENTS.  15 

gress  of  Disunion  —  Dr.  Fiblong's  position  —  Rumors  of  Mrs. 
Harrowscratcb,  etc.,  etc.,  etc 247 

THE  GREAT  MAMMOTHIC   REFORM  CON 
VENTION, 

With  proposals  for  unhinging  society,  and  turning  the  world 
topsy-turvy, 255 

TANGLETOWN  AT  THE  LATEST  ADVICES. 

In  which  the  Editor  arranges  the  final  tableaux,  and  pays  his 
respects  to  the  company,  with  thanks  —  it  being  the  most 
impertinent  act  in  the  whole  performance, 285 


PEELTMINAEY. 


How  the  enterprising  Editor  came  into  posses 
sion  of  the  ensuing  Letters  can  hot  be  told  without 
violating  confidence.  Let  the  curious  reader  be 
assured,  however,  that  no  unlawful  means  were 
resorted  to  in  order  to  furnish  so  delectable  an 
entertainment.  While  he  should  understand  that 
we  "Knights  of  the  Quill"  have  our  precious 
secrets — in  common  with  all  jugglers  from  time 
immemorial — into  which  everybody  must  not  be 
allowed  to  penetrate; — he  may  address  himself  to 
the  feast  in  all  innocence  of  heart,  dismissing  all 
scruples  as  to  the  agency  by  which  he  is  served — 
his  concern  being  rather  with  the  savor  of  the 
viands  than  with  the  goings-forth  of  the  caterer. 

In  presenting  the  "Tangletown  Letters"  to  the 
public,  the  editor  would  aver  that  he  has  confined 
himself  strictly  to  his  own  province — in  no  case 
changing  the  original  MS.,  (though  some  portions 
of  it  might,  in  his  opinion  be  improved,)  but  merely 


18  PRELIMINARY. 

supplying  a  few  omissions  in  punctuation,  and 
crossing  out  a  few  words  that  were  repeated,  in 
the  haste  with  which  Mr.  Trap — under  the  pres 
sure  of  excited  feelings  —  sometimes  wrote.  With 
these  trivial  exceptions,  and  the  mere  formality  of 
numbering  the  letters,  Mr.  Trap's  composition 
appears  in  its  original  form.  The  reader  is  now 
invited  to  try  its  quality. 


THE 


TANGLETOWN  LETTEBS. 


LETTER  FIR-ST. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  TRAP  DEMONSTRATES  THE  GREAT  MORAL  PROP 
OSITION,  THAT  WISDOM  IS  BETTER  THAN  GOLD,  AND  INTRO 
DUCES  US  TO  A  FRIEND  WORTH  KNOWING. 

FKANK: — I  have  executed  my  purpose.  I  am 
free.  Free  from  the  thrall  'of  business,  from  its 
exacting  cares,  from  its  harassing  rivalries,  and 
from  its  servile  solicitudes.  After  twenty  years' 
hard  service  I  have  emancipated  myself;  some 
calm,  free  days  are  reserved  to  me  yet,  I  trust, 
during  which  I  may  survey  life  a  little  more 
thoughtfully,  and  enjoy  my  waning  day  as  it 
declines. 

Men  are  full  of  wonder  at  my  decision.  Not  a 
few  suspect  me  of  being  shaken  in  my  reason; 
while  others — mindful  of  my  reputation  for  eccen 
tricity — say  it  is  a  whim  which  any  one  might 
have  anticipated.  A  few  venture  to  expostulate — 
" Retire  from  business!  Why,  Trap,  what  in  the 


20  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

name  of  common  sense  do  you  mean?  Did  you 
not  make  twenty  thousand — a  cool  TWENTY  THOU 
SAND — last  year?  Are  not  your  steamboat  in 
vestments  profitable  beyond  example?  And  the 
Tangletown  Factory  —  does  that  not  pay  you  fifty 
per  cent.?"  All  of  which  is  measurably  true,  I 
answer;  but  the  question  now  is,  whether  the 
Almighty  created  me  on  purpose  that  I  should 
make  as  much  money  as  possible,  or  whether  I  was 
sent  into  this  world  to  accomplish  certain  other 
objects?  I  find  in  me  faculties,  sensations,  and 
desires  that  do  not  seem  to  be  fitted  to  the  business 
of  gain-getting,  at  all ;  they  render  me  no  assistance 
in  this  pursuit,  even  in  the  most  trying  emergencies; 
and  if  the  accumulation  of  wealth  be  the  prime 
end  of  my  existence,  I  need  not  have  been  furnished 
with  them;  for  they  only  oppose  and  disconcert 
me,  being  in  rebellion  as  often  as  once  a  week. 
And  yet  I  begin  to  think  that  these  persistent 
rebels  are  the  noblest  of  my  forces  —  that  they 
obey  an  authority  higher  than  mine,  when  'they 
refuse  to  help  me  in  my  financial  calculations ;  and 
so  I  am  resolved  to  yield  the  contest — to  transfer 
my  enterprise  to  other  objects,  and  labor  where 
these  will  serve  me. 

I  tell  you,  Frank,  our  worldly  sagacity  is  not 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  21 

what  it  boasts  itself  of  being.  It  makes  the  most 
egregious  blunders  every  day.  Thus,  only  last 
summer,  Worldly  Sagacity  said  I  was  the  owner  of 
two  steamboats.  It  was  all  a  mistake,  Frank ;  the 
steamboats  owned  me!  They  controlled  my  time, 
weighed  me  down  with  care,  deprived  me  of  sleep, 
and  treated  me  with  all  the  rigor  that  an  absolute 
master  could  impose  upon  his  slave. 

There  is  old  Nicholas  Brick — flint-hearted  Old 
Nick,  as  he  is  called — who  is  reputed  to  own  all 
Bonus  street.  The  truth  is.  \\is.tcnants  own  him. 
The  most  destitute  person  among  them  has  a  piece 
of  the  old  miser,  and  the  thousand  processes  of  tor 
ture  which  they  invent  for  him  are  enough  to  cure  any 
man  of  the  conceit  of  being  a  landlord.  Poor  old 
Nicholas !  There  is  not  a  moment  of  time,  nor  a 
faculty  of  mind  he  can  fully  call  his  own.  He 
must  run  here  and  there,  by  day  and  by  night — he 
must  tamper  with  lawyers — he  must  go  hungry, 
lose  his  sleep,  and  sacrifice  every  human  comfort, 
at  the  beck  of  the  veriest  rogue  that  tenants  his 
rooms. 

I  can  see  that  the  old  man's  servitude  is  wearing 
him  down.  His  frame  shrivels  and  bends  more  and 
more — his  locks  are  spare  and  white — his  eyes 
twinkle  with  a  dry,  hard,  anxious  glare  —  his 


22  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

tottering  gait  and  husky  voice  speak  of  exhausted 
vitality.  He  moves  in  the  street,  sometimes  like 
one  in  a  dream  —  an  anxious,  turbulent  dream, 
wherein  phantoms  and  realities  are  so  inextricably 
blended,  that  consciousness  is  balked,  and  reason 
jeered  into  frenzy.  He  loses  the  sense  of  passing 
things  —  he  answers  at  random  when  suddenly  ad 
dressed,  and  complains  now  and  then  that  build 
ings  and  people  swim  around  him  in  the  air.  I 
suspect  the  old  man's  faculties  are  becoming  disor 
dered.  The  flag-man  has  had  to  pull  him  off  the 
track  once  or  twice,  when  the  train  was  coming  in, 
and  yesterday,  one  of  the  omnibus  drivers  had 
nearly  put  an  end  to  his  cares. 

The  other  evening  I  was  observing  a  colored  man 
employed  in  sawing  some  wood.  He  had  been  a 
slave  down  in  Kentucky,  but  had  succeeded  in 
buying  his  freedom.  He  is  now  earning  money 
that  he  may  redeem  his  wife  and  two  children  from 
slavery.  I  stood  observing  him,  as  he  toiled  there 
late  in  the  twilight,  with  a  cheerful  alacrity,  beto 
kening  a  hopeful  spirit ;  and  I  thought  of  the  per 
sistent  resolution,  the  faith  and  the  affection,  that 
must  animate  and  ennoble  that  poor  son  of  a  down 
trodden  race. 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  23 

My  musing  was  interrupted  by  the  withered 
figure  of  old  Nicholas,  tottering  up  the  street,  and 
driven  by  some  of  his  merciless  masters. 

"Ah,  Nicholas!"  I  exclaimed,  involuntarily, 
'glancing  from  the  negro  to  the  old  man,  "if  you 
could  but  buy  your  freedom,  too !  " 

But  no ;  they  call  him  rich,  they  envy  him  his 
wealth  in  many  a  home;  but  he  has  not  where 
withal  to  buy  the  liberty  which  his  dark-skinned 
brother  has  found  at  the  bottom  of  a  small  purse. 


But  let  me  give  you  another  instance  of  the  sin 
gular  obtuseness  of  this  thing  we  call  Worldly 
Sagacity. 

There  is  my  friend  Herman,  who  lives  in  the 
small  white  cottage  down  in  Meadow-Lark  Lane. 
He  built  the  cottage  with  the  hard  earnings  of  daily 
labor,  slowly  accumulated  during  some  five  years. 
He  had  married  long  before  this,  and  his  wife  had 
proved  herself  worthy  of  so  excellent  a  husband. 
She  is  well-bred,  intelligent,  industrious,  cheerful, 
an  excellent  housekeeper,  and  withal  quite  pretty. 
They  have  suffered  some  trials  and  experienced 
some  wrongs— and  what  mortal  has  not?— but 
they  have  borne  them  with  fortitude  and  with 


24  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

forgiveness,  and  have  prospered  in  spite  of  all,  cleav 
ing  closer  to  each  other  amid  the  rigor  of  misfor 
tune,  and  finding  in  their  mutual  affection  a  solace 
for  all  their  sorrows.  They  have  two  children  — 
one,  a  boy  of  three  years,  in  whom  I  can  discover 
nothing  peculiar,  and  the  other,  a  sweet,  spiritual- 
featured  girl  of  seven.  I  can  not  speak  of  this 
child  without  perpetrating  some  flighty  extrava 
gance  of  language.  To  me  she  seems  the  sweetest, 
divinest  daughter  of  God  that  ever  gladdened  my 
sight.  Frank,  I  am  a  childless  man,  past  the  vigor 
of  my  days,  and  I  do  not  murmur  at  what  Provi 
dence  has  decreed  for  me ;  but  if  it  had  pleased 
God  to  make  me  the  father  of  such  a  child,  I  be 
lieve  I  would  have  been  content,  not  only  to  have 
been  poor,  but  to  have  suffered  all  human  priva 
tions  to  gladden  her  patli  across  the  world.  (They 
have  given  this  little  seraph  some  abominable 
name — in  honor  of  some  atrocious  relative — a 
Miss  Moloch,  I  think — but  I  have  named  her  Au 
rora,  and  will  call  her  nothing  else.) 

Well,  there,  as  I  said,  dwells  my  friend  Herman, 
in  Meadow-Lark  Lane.  He  has  advanced  out  of 
the  shadow  of  Want,  and  his  life-stream  flows 
peaceful  and  still.  He  is  the  centre  and  bulwark 
of  a  charming  home;  the  sun,  in  all  his  course, 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  25 

does  not  illumine  a  happier  dwelling;  and  when 
the  evening  lamp  is  lit,  and  that  domestic  band 
comes  to  encircle  it,  the  chance  visitor  will  see  on 
every  face  that  great  content  which  passes  utterance. 

Herman  is  a  Christian.  His  pew  is  always  oc 
cupied  on  Sunday,  and  he  hears  the  preacher  with 
earnest  attention  and  devout  faith,  striving  to  put 
in  practice  the  virtues  which  his  conscience  recog 
nizes.  Herman  is  something  of  a  student ;  he  buys 
all  the  sound  books  he  can  afford,  particularly  his 
tories  and  works  on  geology;  and  reads  them  aloud 
to  his  family  during  his  leisure  evenings  —  explain 
ing  the  misty  or  equivocal  passages  as  they  occur. 
Herman  is  a  good  citizen ;  he  takes  care  to  read 
enough  in  reference  to  political  questions  to  pre 
vent  his  common  sense  from  being  conjured  out  of 
him  by  artful  demagogues ;  and,  keeping  clear  of 
partisan  bluster  and  mercenary  intrigue,  votes  ac 
cording  to  his  sense  of  justice.  On  all  local  or 
municipal  questions,  he  is  found  to  have  an  enlight 
ened  opinion,  and  always  favors  those  projects  that 
are  likely  to  benefit  the  largest  number  of  persons. 

Yet,  my  friend  Herman  is  by  no  means  a  conspic 
uous  man  here  in  Tangletown.  He  is  never  up  for 
any  office;  he  is  a  member  of  no  patent  safety 
committee ;  he  is  not  noticed  by  the  newspapers. 


26  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

If  he  were  to  die  to-morrow,  his  obituary  notice 
would  not  exceed  two  lines.     In  fact,  he  is  an  ob 
scure  man.     Worldly  Sagacity  does  not  know  him, 
and,  if  introduced,  would  only  turn  up  its  nose 
supremely ! 

Suppose,  Frank,  you  ask  Worldly  Sagacity  what 
my  friend  Herman  is  worth.  You  will  be  told  that 
he  is  little  better  than  a  beggar ;  that,  in  the  ex 
pressive  language  of  Miss  Superfina  Upperten,  he 
is  just  —  NOBODY. 

Here  Worldly  Sagacity  blunders  again  —  proves 
itself  blind  as  a  post. 

For  I  maintain  that  Herman  has  greater  posses 
sions —  more  enduring  wealth  —  than  any  other 
person  of  my  acquaintance.  Vast  and  unmeasured 
tracts  of  the  universe  are  his,  over  which,  his  rea 
son  and  fancy  reign  in  sovereignty  nobler  than  a 
king's.  In  that  rich  historic  land  which  lies  just 
behind  the  horizon  of  to-day,  I  have  seen  him 
occupying  fields  broader  than  the  prairies,  and 
more  precious  than  our  Western  empires  will  ever 
prove.  His  principal  wealth,  you  will  observe, 
lies  in  countries  utterly  inaccessible  to  Nicholas 
Brick,  and  other  persons  of  his  stamp ;  they  have 
never  found  the  way  to  its  prolific  shores :  and 
sooner  shall  our  adventurous  ships  cleave  the  ice- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  27 

bergs  of  the  Pole — opening  an  arctic  path  between 
the  Continents  —  than  they  discover  a  passage  to 
that  golden  realm. 

Yet  fail  not  to  observe  how  secure  and  peaceful 
Herman's  possessions  are.  They  never  tyrannize 
over  him  as  the  steamboats  did  over  me,  or  as  old 
Nicholas  Brick's  tenants  do  over  him.  They  are 
exempt  from  taxation  —  no  revenue  is  wrung  from 
them ;  the  sheriff  can  not  lay  his  hands  upon  them ; 
they  are  infinitely  beyond  his  reach.  Railroads  or 
factories  can  not  disfigure  them  —  the  elements  can 
not  waste  them  —  they  are  beyond  the  power  of 
accidents  or  of  decay.  And,  what  is  a  still  more 
important  consideration — as  proving  their  infinite 
superiority  to  our  wealth — THEY  ARE  HIS,  BOTH 

FOR  TIME  AND  FOR  ETERNITY. 


28  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS, 


LETTER  SECOND. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  TRAP  RELATES  A  STORY,  THE  LIKE  OF  WHICH 
SOME  PERSONS  CAN  VERIFY,  AND  SETS  HIS  FACE  LIKE  A 
FLINT  AGAINST  ONE  OF  OUR  POPULAR  VICES. 

I  HAVE  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  Amelia. 
You  may  remember  her,  Frank,  as  you  saw  her  in 
the  bloom  and  luxuriance  of  her  womanhood,  the 
very  season  of  her  marriage. 

I  think  you  met  her  at  Nahant,  when  they  were 
exhibiting  her  beauty  in  the  matrimonial  auction- 
room  at  Drew's,  and  adroitly  soliciting  bids  from 
the  effeminate  coxcombs  and  supercilious  nabobs 
that  made  up  a  large  share  of  the  congenial  society 
at  the  hotel.  You  can  not  have  forgotten  the  sen 
sation  she  created,  the  admiration  she  inspired,  or 
the  idolatrous  worship  she  exacted.  Not  only  were 
weak  heads  turned  by  the  intoxication  of  her  love 
liness,  but  men  who  had  hitherto  kept  company 
with  common  sense,  were  brought  under  the  spell 
of  the  young  enchantress. 

I  am  not  sure,  Frank,  but  even  you  brought  an 
offering  to  this  fair  idol ;  but  if  you  did,  the  act 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  29 

became  your  years,  and  was  justified  by  the  rare 
beauty  of  Amelia ;  so  you  may  bear  the  "impeach 
ment"  without  a  blush. 

I  can  never  recall  the  idiotic  and  mercenary 
transactions  of  that  ill-starred  summer  without  a 
mingled  emotion  of  sorrow  and  anger.  Amelia 
appeared  at  Drew's  arrayed  for  sacrifice ;  she  was 
carried  thither  on  purpose  to  be  offered  up.  Old 
Minos,  her  father — sordid,  perverse  old  man — 
whose  whole  life  had  hitherto  been  devoted  to 
gain,  all  at  once  conceived  a  new  absurdity,  more 
monstrous  than  the  first.  He  would  have  a  splen 
did  marriage — his  daughter  should  be  mated  with 
some  "eligible"  person,  and  he  would  delight  his 
eyes  by  seeing  her  the  mistress  of  some  princely 
establishment — perhaps  of  one  of  the  palaces  on 
the  Avenue.  So  Amelia  came  to  the  altar  of  Pluto, 
and  was  ready  to  be  offered.  The  admiring  interest 
she  awakened  in  every  beholder,  the  flatteries  and 
idolatries  lavished  upon  her  even  to  the  fatal  mo 
ment  that  decided  her  destiny  —  were  only  the 
adornments  and  accessories  of  the  sacrifice.  Never 
was  a  more  precious  victim  immolated  since  hea 
then  superstition  and  immorality  began  to  scourge 
and  stain  a  Christian  land. 

But  let  me  descend  from  this  hyperbolical  eleva- 


30  THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

tion,  and  rehearse  the  story  to  you  in  a  confidential 
undertone : 

There  were  that  summer  at  Nahant,  two  con 
spicuous  petitioners  for  Amelia's  hand.  One  was  a 
young  lawyer,  of  unblemished  character,  high  men 
tal  promise,  and  superior  personal  attractions.  I 
think  that  Amelia,  in  her  secret  heart,  favored  him ; 
though  she  was  too  well  trained  in  the  morality  of 
fashionable  life  to  allow  her  preference  to  be 
known.  For  myself,  knowing  and  esteeming  Ram 
sey  as  I  did — for  I  had  been  familiar  with  his 
character  since  he  was  a  boy — I  was  anxious  that 
he  might  succeed  in  this  momentous  "  case."  Avail 
ing  myself  of  the  privilege  accorded  me  by  friend 
ship,  and  trusting  somewhat  to  the  influence  of  my 
maturer  age,  I  sought,  by  various  devices  and  op 
portune  suggestions,  to  advance  his  suit  in  the 
heart  of  the  splendid  girl. 

It  proved  altogether  a  vain  effort ;  and  I  advise 
you,  Frank,  never  to  have  aught  to  do  with  any 
match-making  of  which  you  are  not  one  of  the  par 
ties.  It  is  a  thankless  exhibition  of  kindness.  It 
is  what  no  "good  intentions" — however  immacu 
late — will  justify.  People  will  submit  to  be  helped 
to  anything  but  love.  That  they  prefer  to  take  un 
solicited;  and  if  it  can  be  done  by  force  of  arms,  in 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  31 

the  face  of  penalties  —  so  much  the  better!  It 
occurs  to  me  sometimes  that,  had  I  not  taken  such 
pains  to  recommend  poor  Ramsey  to  the  affection 
of  the  wilful  beauty,  she  might  have  married  him 
in  spite  of  all. 

The  other  suitor  was  a  rich  merchant,  of  Jewish 
extraction,  named  Belshazzar.  I  know  not  what 
recommendations  Mr.  Belshazzar  possessed,  aside 
from  his  wealth  and  social  position ;  I  have  never 
been  fortunate  enough  to  discover  any.  As  regards 
his  personal  appearance,  he  is  by  no  means  attrac 
tive.  His  manners — provided  he  has  no  "  designs  " 
upon  you  —  are  neither  winning  nor  prepossessing. 
And  with  reference  to  moral  qualities,  he  is  noted 
neither  for  the  integrity  of  his  business  transactions 
nor  for  the  purity  of  his  private  life. 

Old  Minos — let  Pluto  have  the  praise !  — decided 
that  Mr.  Belshazzar  was  an  "eligible"  match  for 
his  daughter;  he  had  the  essential  qualification — 
he  was  reputed  to  be  worth  three  millions. 

Amelia,  in  spite  of  false  training,  false  views, 
false  friends — the  whole  infernal  trinity  of  false 
hood  in  which  she  dwelt — demurred  to  this  highly 
"eligible"  arrangement;  for,  in  the  girl's  heart 
were  the  germs  of  genuine  womanhood,  and  an 
instinct  warned  her,  perhaps,  that  the  peace  of  her 


32  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

whole  life  was  about  to  be  jeopardized.  But  her 
serums  were  artfully  met — her  instinctive  repug 
nance  perseveringly  combatted — her  pride  and 
ambition  adroitly  appealed  to ;  and,  in  an  evil  mo 
ment  she  consented,  and  the  sacrifice  was  consum 
mated.  Could  she  know,  with  her  limited  experi 
ence —  could  she  perceive,  with  all  those  false  lights 
glaring  balefully  across  her  reason — what  she  had 
yielded  up  to  that  demon  whom  old  Minos  served? 
What  hopes  of  felicity,  what  day-dreams  of  future 
affection,  what  opportunities  for  virtuous  life-labor, 
what  possibilities  of  Christian  usefulness,  she  laid 
upon  that  black  and  accursed  altar?  No ;  she  could 
not  know,  or  suspect  the  fearful  sum  of  her  sacrifice ; 
and  I  have  always  laid  the  reproach  of  the  deed 
upon  old  Minos,  giving  her  only  my  compassion. 

After  Amelia  became  the  wife  of  Belshazzar — 
his  wife  according  to  the  law  of  the  State  and  the 
conventional  sentiment  of  society — I  thought  it 
would  be  pleasant  to  forget  her  existence.  I  could 
not  think  of  her  as  the  wife  of  that  Israelitish 
mercenary,  without  a  kind  of  smouldering  rage. 
I  declined  the  invitation  to  be  present  at  the  great 
bridal  banquet — fearing  that  I  might  be  tempted 
in  some  spasm  of  wrath,  to  throttle  old  Minos,  or 
at  least  throw  a  wine-glass  at  the  detestable  bride- 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  33 

groom.  There  were  edifying  notices  of  the  nup 
tial  ceremonies  in  all  the  principal  newspapers, 
and  bridal  presents,  journeyings,  fetes,  and  congrat 
ulations  gave  an  imposing  air  to  the  transaction ; 
but  it  was  months  before  I  could  bear  any  allusion 
to  it,  or  even  recall  the  beautiful  image  of  my 
young  friend  under  its  present  desecration,  without 
a  sensation  of  disgust.  ' 

But  time — though  it  has  not  reconciled  me  to 
this  marriage,  and  never  can — has  taught  me  the 
propriety  of  making  the  best  of  it.  I  can  look  at 
the  hateful  reality,  at  least,  without  losing  my 
equanimity,  or  distorting  my  countenance. 

Last  week  I  unexpectedly  met  Amelia — I  can 
never  call  her  Mrs.  Belshazzar — at  the  Opera 
House.  I  had  gone  there,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  my  friend  Peskie- 
witch,  to  hear  the  last  Italian  singer.  Now,  Pes- 
kiewitch  is  a  great  judge  of  music  in  general,  and 
of  opera  music  in  particular ;  (he  told  me,  in  confi 
dence,  that  he  wrote  those  musical  criticisms  in  the 
Tangletowri  Mirror  which  are  so  difficult  to  be  un 
derstood;)  and,  as  he  went  into  ecstasies  over  the 
performance  of  this  be-jeweled  and  screeching 

Italian,  I  suppose  it  was  a  fine  entertainment;  but 

2* 


34  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

I  confess  I  could  not  understand  what  it  all  meant, 
though  I  gave  my  whole  attention  to  the  fantastic 
dresses,  and  tragic  attitudes,  and  brandishing  of 
daggers,  and  quavering  and  screaming  of  voices 
and  instruments,  until  my  head  ached  with  the 
fruitless  effort. 

Well,  after  the  mysterious  business  was  all  over, 
and  the  audience  beginning  to  disperse  —  while 
Peskiewitch  was  confounding  me  even  more  than 
the  performance,  by  his  enthusiastic  commentaries 
upon  it,  my  name  was  suddenly  pronounced  by  a 
familiar  voice;  and,  upon  looking  around  at  the 
speaker,  I  beheld  Amelia.  She  was  evidently  so 
much  gratified  by  the  meeting  —  I  had  not  seen 
her  since  her  marriage  —  and  so  urgent  in  her  re 
quest  that  I  should  visit  her,  that  I  engaged  to  call 
the  following  day. 

Belshazzar  was  not  there,  but  she  had  the  arm 
of  a  stranger,  whom  she  introduced  as  Cousin 
Somebody — the  name  escaping  me  as  we  hurried 
through  the  corridor. 

The  next  morning,  soon  as  I  could  disengage 
myself  from  Peskiewitch,  (who  would  fain  have 
carried  me  off  to  a  nine-o'clock  rehearsal,)  I  pro 
ceeded  to  pay  my  respects  to  Amelia,  at  Belshaz- 
zar's  mansion. 


Mr.  Trap    "visits  Amelia"  at   Belshazzar's  palace       P. 


:\ 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  35 

The  Israelitish  extortioner  has  built  a  palace  — 
a  strange,  fantastic,  Gothic  monstrosity  —  with 
steep  turrets,  projecting  angles,  and  antique  carv 
ings  outside,  and  mysterious  passages,  unshapely 
apartments,  with  unheard-of  furniture,  and,  as  I 
half  suspect,  dismal  torture-chambers  within.  The 
building  is  some  three  miles  from  the  city,  and 
stands  in  the  midst  of  spacious  grounds,  richly 
shrubberied,  and  waving  with  fine  trees  —  some 
what  resembling  a  park.  The  grounds  in  the  rear 
are  bounded  by  the  Hudson,  from  which  one  may 
ascend  to  the  very  steps  of  the  palace  by  a  succes 
sion  of  curving  terraces. 

There  is  a  kind  of  barbaric  munificence  and 
splendor  investing  the  place,  and  I  felt,  as  I  passed 
beneath  the  carved  image  over  the  portal,  and  fol 
lowed  the  swarthy  usher  into  one  of  the  quaintly 
furnished  rooms,  much  as  I  fancy  I  might  on  enter 
ing  the  royal  den  of  some  despotic  Oriental,  where 
the  visitor's  mind  is  divided  between  contemplation 
of  the  luxury  before  his  eyes,  and  reflections  on  the 
frightful  cost  at  which  it  is  maintained. 

Amelia  received  me  with  an  air  of  considerable 
gayety;  but  it  was  not  difficult  to  see  that  her 
sprightliness  was  affected,  and  hard  to  be  sustained. 


36  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

A  false  mood,  like  false  coin,  may  generally  be 
detected  by  the  ring.  "  Methinks  thou  ringest  too 
loud  for  true  metal,"  was  Cromwell's  remark  to  a 
suspected  Cavalier.  And  so,  as  I  mused  on  the 
words  and  demeanor  of  my  fair  friend,  I  said  to 
myself,  "This  gayety  is  too  demonstrative  to  be  real; 
there  is  in  it  an  undertone  of  secret  sorrow." 

The  captive  Mexican  prince,  as  the  Spanish 
Chronicles  tell,  when  stretched  upon  a  bed  of  live 
coals,  forced  a  smile  over  his  agonized  features, 
and  said,  "Am  I  not  upon  a  bed  of  roses?"  That 
act  of  heroic  dissimulation  \vas  done  to  taunt  the 
enemies  of  the  sufferer;  but  it  was  neither  smile 
^nor  words  that  abated  the  torture.  So  my  poor 
friend,  thought  I,  by  an  amiable  device  of  pride 
and  friendship,  puts  on  the  blithesome  airs  of  con 
tent,  and  moulds  her  lip  to  smile,  and  tunes  her 
voice  to  the  merry  laugh;  but  she  can  neither 
change  the  inward  pain  into  the  pleasure  she  affects, 
nor  hinder  its  half-smothered  cry  from  marring  her 
fictitious  gayety. 

We  talked  awhile  of  old  scenes  in  which  we  had 
borne  a  part,  and,  as  her  girlish  life  rose  vividly  be 
fore  her,  I  could  see  a  remorseless  shadow  steal 
across  her  face.  Suddenly  her  forced  vivacity  was 
quenched,  her  voice  fell  into  a  mechanical  mono- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTEES.  37 

tone,  her  glance  sought  the  ground,  and  she  sub 
sided  into  silent  reverie. 

I  paused,  too,  and  surveyed  that  beautiful  wo 
man,  whose  countenance  recorded  but  too  faith 
fully  the  emotions  of  her  perturbed  spirit,  and 
whose  heaving  breast  betokened  the  rebellion  of  a 
nature  that  strove  against  its  thraldom  in  vain. 

Amelia  arose,  and  with  an  effort  to  resume  her 
former  demeanor,  led  me  through  various  rooms, 
that  I  might  observe  all  the  splendor  and  luxury  of 
Belshazzar's  palace.  We  lingered  some  time  in  a 
spacious  picture-gallery,  where  the  "finest  works 
of  the  old  masters" — as  Amelia  certified — and  a 
few  fresh-looking  modern  landscapes,  hung  in  their 
massive  frames. 

All  in  all,  it  is  truly  an  enchanting  place  — 
though  such  an  endless  variety  of  glittering  ob 
jects,  like  a  museum,  rather  tends  to  weary  the 
sight,  and  can  not  invite  repose,  or  foster  the 
healthy  home  feelings,  as  do  the  sober  attractions 
of  a  less  ostentatious  abode. 

Amelia  is  the  nominal  mistress  of  all  this  splen 
dor —  the  queen  of  England  has  scarcely  a  more 
luxuriant  home;  she  never  lacks  a  pleasure  that 
wealth  can  purchase,  or  a  favor  that  fashion  can 
bestow.  But  while  she  possesses  all  this,  Belshaz- 


38  THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

zar  possesses  her ;  she  has  Pluto's  gift  with  Pluto's 
society.  She  loves  not  this  man — this  cold,  sinu 
ous,  obdurate,  heartless  Belshazzar — she  never 
did — she  never  can.  Yet  stands  he  at  the  gate  of 
felicity,  trampling  the  buds  of  hope  that  once  were 
in  her  heart,  and  forbidding  the  approach  of  all 
human  affection  forever.  She  has  no  child  for 
whom  the  fire  of  love  may  be  lighted  in  the  polar 
solitudes  of  her  unillumined  being;  there  is  no 
human  creature  there  to  make  melody  in  her  dis 
cordant  heart,  or  to  show  her  that  life  is  indeed  a 
gift  that  merits  praise.  A  jeweled  corpse,  she  was 
borne  to  this  splendid  tomb;  and  here  —  a  ghost 
that  can  neither  leave  the  earth,  nor  yet  share  its 
joys  —  she  walks  and  waits! 

And  yet,  Frank,  how  many  girls  I  know  at  this 
very  moment,  who  are  being  educated  as  Amelia 
was — who  are  being  taught  that  beauty  is  given 
them  to  facilitate  conquests ;  that  accomplishments 
are  more  important  than  principles ;  that  a  wealthy 
or  "  eligible  "  marriage  is  the  chief  object  for  which 
a  woman  ought  to  strive ! 

In  many  a  household  corner  sits  old  Minos  at 
his  twilight  cogitations,  preparing,  in  that  foolish, 
cruel  heart  of  his,  another  precious  sacrifice  to 
Pluto.  Before  him  stands  the  innocent  victim — • 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  39 

all  unconscious,  as  yet,  of  Belshazzar  and  his  gilded 
tomb  —  and  she  turns  to  him  a  countenance  brighter 
than  the  firelight,  because  the  rays  of  heaven  linger 
upon  it  still.  Can  he  not  read,  in  that  clear  brow 
and  vivacious  eye — in  that  budding  womanhood, 
instinct  with  grace  and  modesty,  with  generosity 
and  affection  —  a  nobler  purpose  from  the  Creator, 
and  possibilities  of  a  truer  mission,  than  his  sordid 
heart  would  decree  ? 

Adieu,  my  dear  fellow:  I  will  write  you  more 
concerning  Amelia,  hereafter. 


40  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 


LETTER  THIRD. 

SHOWING  MR.  TRAP'S  DOMESTIC  ARRANGEMENTS,  THE  GOOD- 
FORTUNE  OF  AN  IDLE  MAN,  AND  SOME  INCIDENTAL  GLIMPSES 
OF  HUMAN  NATURE, 

IT  is  time  I  gave  you  some  information  concern 
ing  my  home. 

Soon  as  I  resolved  to  retire  from  business,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  might  obtain  more  genial 
quarters  than  I  had  found  at  Mrs.  Clackenbacker's 
genteel  but  somewhat  overcrowded  boarding-house ; 
and  accordingly,  I  employed  my  friend  Peskiewitch 
to  discover,  if  possible,  some  healthy  and  quiet  re 
treat  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  where  I  might 
establish  a  more  agreeable  home.  Peskiewitch 
executed  his  commission  so  zealously,  that  by  the 
time  I  was  ready  to  escape  from  the  house  of 
bondage — that  smutty  old  warehouse  on  Trap's 
Wharf — he  had  arranged  for  the  purchase  of  a 
snug  mansion  in  Pineapple  street,  and  it  only 
wanted  the  drawing  of  the  deed,  to  put  me  in 
possession  of  the  same. 

On  examination,  I  found  the  place  well  adapted 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  41 

to  my  purpose,  save  that  some  of  the  rooms  were 
rather  small,  and  the  surrounding  grounds  in  want 
of  renovation.  But,  as  Peskiewitch  suggested,  one 
of  these  defects  might  be  remedied  by  taking  down 
a  few  partitions,  and  the  other  by  keeping  an  in 
dustrious  gardener.  I  assented,  and  secured  the 
place  at  once. 

While  the  workmen  were  engaged  in  putting  the 
house  and  grounds  in  order,  I  reflected  where  I 
might  find  the  proper  housekeeper. 

Rumors  began  to  be  rife  among  my  acquaintance 
that  I  meditated  marriage  again;  and  I  believe  I 
was  honored  by  having  my  name  connected  with 
that  of  nearly  every  marriageable  lady  in  Tangle- 
town.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  feel  grateful  for  the 
enlarged  interest  that  has  been  manifested  in  my 
welfare,  and  for  the  flattering  expectations  that 
were  entertained  concerning  me ;  but  I  confess — 
such  is  the  perverseness  of  my  nature — to  a  sensa 
tion  of  annoyance,  rather  than  of  satisfaction,  at 
the  progress  of  these  rumors. 

About  the  same  time,  too,  I  was  led  to  appre 
ciate,  as  I  never  did  before,  the  hospitality  of  many 
of  my  Tarigletown  acquaintances.  I  received  innu 
merable  invitations  to  take  tea  with  families  which 
I  had  scarcely  known,  and  was  made  the  object  of 


42  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

attentions  that  were  as  affecting  as  they  were  un 
expected.  Ah,  Frank,  there  is  more  kindness 
among  mankind  than  we  suppose.  People  are  not 
so  selfish  as  they  seem.  My  Tangletown  friends, 
whom  I  had  considered  as  mostly  indifferent  to  my 
welfare,  no  sooner  discovered  that  I  was  releasing 
myself  from  the  cares  of  business,  and  was  disposed 
to  make  a  rational  use  of  the  remainder  of  my  life, 
than  they  showed  a  generous  sympathy  in  my  good 
resolution,  and  gave  me  a  cordial  welcome  to  their 
homes.  I  have  thus  been  enabled  of  late  to  culti 
vate  my  somewhat  neglected  social  faculties,  and  to 
overcome  much  of  my  diffidence,  by  mingling  a 
good  deal  in  female  society.  For  much  of  my 
time  has  been  spent,  like  that  of  the  clergyman, 
whom  I  occasionally  meet  at  the  house  of  mutual 
friends,  in  visiting  the  fairer  part  of  my  acquaint 
ance  ;  and  I  am  particularly  indebted  to  the  society 
of  some  half  dozen  young  ladies,  who,  considering 
my  years  and  their  evident  disinterestedness,  merit 
my  thanks  for  their  generous  attentions. 


THE  TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.'  43 

Among  those  who  have  shown  the  most  solici 
tude  for  my  happiness,  and  whose  hospitality  is 
most  exuberant,  is  Mrs.  Pulp  —  a  widow,  in  humble 
circumstances,  with  two  amiable  daughters.  Mrs. 
Pulp  is  a  lady,  who,  though  narrowed  in  her  means 
of  subsistence,  and  obliged  to  contend  against  actual 
want,  is,  nevertheless,  full  of  sympathy  with  the 
welfare  of  others,  and  ready  to  render  counsel  in 
difficult  emergencies. 

I  consulted  Mrs.  Pulp  in  reference  to  the  house 
keeping  business.  The  kind  lady  offered  many  wise 
suggestions,  which  proved  that  her  domestic  edu 
cation  had  been  well  attended  to,  or  at  least  that 
experience  had  taught  her  the  true  method  of 
managing  household  matters. 

But  when  I  asked  her  whether  she  knew  any 
well  qualified  person  who  would  be  willing  to  en 
gage  in  my  service,  she  remarked,  after  considera 
ble  reflection,  that  it  was  extremely  difficult  to  find 
housekeepers  of  exactly  the  right  sort ;  and  then, 
passing  from  the  subject,  began  to  speak  of  her 
eldest  daughter,  of  whose  many  shining  qualities 'I 
was  delighted  to  hear. 

While  the  mother  was  speaking  thus,  I  observed 
tnat  the  young  lady  grew  quite  red  with  blush 
ing — a  circumstance  that  tended  to  raise  her  very 


44  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

much  in  my  estimation,  as  it  proved  the  modesty 
and  humility  of  her  spirit ;  and  I  went  away  think 
ing  more  highly  of  both  mother  and  daughter.* 


Somewhat  disappointed  that  Mrs.  Pulp  had  not 
been  able  to  recommend  a  housekeeper  to  me,  I 
thought  I  could  not  do  better  than  make,  as  I  did 
on  the  following  day,  a  proposition  to  Peskiewitch. 

"Peskie witch,"  said  I,  "the  house  is,  I  perceive, 
nearly  ready  for  my  reception;  the  question  is,  who 
shall  I  find  to  manage  its  domestic  economy?" 

"I  am  surprised  that  you  should  talk  of  econ 
omy —  a  man  of  your  inexhaustible  income,"  re 
turned  Peskiewitch,  bluntly.  "  My  wife  urges  that 
virtue  until  I  am  out  of  patience  with  it." 

"  You  misconceive  me,"  answered  I.  "What  I 
mean  is,  where  shall  I  find  a  judicious  person  to 
manage  my  household?" 

Peskiewitch  nodded,  and  then  fell  off  into 
meditation. 

*  A  circumstance  that  indicates  extraordinary  dullness  on  Mr.  Trap's 
part,  in  iny  opinion. — [EDITOR  TANOLETOWN  LETTERS.] 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  45 

"  Peskiewitch,  my  friend,"  said  1,  ''your  wife  is 
a  good  housekeeper,  I  think." 

"Excellent,  sir,  but  for  a  few  faults." 

"And  what  are  they?" 

"Why,  sir,"  (taking  off  his  hat  and  scratching 
his  head,)  "  she  too  frequently  complains  that  there 
is  no  flour  in  the  barrel,  v  id  accuses  me  of  being  a 
worthless  lout  because  I  spend  now  and  then  a  day 
in  writing  musical  criticisms  for  the  Mirror,  while 
some  vulgar  drudgery  happens  to  lie  within  reach 
neglected!" 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"Principally,  sir;  her  offences  are  mainly  of 
that  sort.  She  is  wanting  in  a  due  appreciation  of 
those  intellectual  pursuits  to  which  I  occasionally 
turn,  as  a  relief  from  the  drudgery  of  life." 

"Then  I  understand  that  your  wife's  defects 
arise  from  circumstances,  rather  than  from  any  flaw 
of  temper.  For  instance,  were  there  always  flour 
enough  in  the  barrel,  and  no  work  neglected  while 
you  are  employed  in  writing  your  criticisms,  I 
presume  she  would  prove  herself  nearly  faultless?  " 
"I  sincerely  believe  she  would;  as  she  is  not  by 
nature  given  to  testiness  of  temper,  and  only  be 
trays  the  infirmity  of  a  sharp  tongue  in  the  absence 
of  some  of  those  physical  comforts,  on  which  the 


46  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

simple-minded  set  a  preposterous  value,  but  which 
intellectual  men  hold  in  merited  contempt J' 

"  Peskiewitch,"  said  I,  after  a  moment's  reflec 
tion,  "I  perceive  that  you  are  disinclined  to  those 
pursuits  which  men  call  useful,  and  are  disposed  to 
indulge  those  tastes  and  habits  the  utility  of  which 
it  would  be  hard  to  discover.  In  short,  you  are 
poetical  by  temperament,  intellectual  by  profession, 
and  idle  by  practice.  You  are  what  the  world  calls 
a  good-for-nothing.  Do  n't  interrupt  me,  Peskie 
witch;  I  know  your  good  parts,  and  prize  them. 
And  what  I  particularly  wish  to  say  is  this :  Take 
your  family  into  my  house  and  live  there.  I  will 
furnish  the  larder,  and  your  wife  shall  be  mistress 
of  the  mansion.  I  will  free  you  from  the  trouble 
some  and  ill-requited  obligation  of  providing  the 
"physical  comforts,"  and  you  shall  furnish  me 
with  those  intellectual  accomplishments  and  musi 
cal  instincts  which  my  dullness  may  enable  you  to 
impart.  Perhaps  I  may  buy  the  children  new 
gowns  on  their  birthdays,  and  they  may  frolic  for 
me  on  the  lawn  when  I  have  no  other  amusement. 
Thus  we  shall  render  unto  each  other  mutual  serv 
ice —  dovetail  our  several  facilities  into  our  several 
wants,  and  so  exemplify  the  amiable  principle  of  a  so 
cial  philosophy  now  being  extensively  promulgated." 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  47 

As  I  had  foreseen,  Peskiewitch  gladly  accepted 
the  proposition;  and,  in  view  of  the  prospect  of 
boundless  leisure,  instantly  projected  a  poem  of 
forty  cantos. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  I  made  it  convenient 
to  inform  Mrs.  Pulp  of  my  arrangement,  and  was 
rather  disconcerted  to  find  that  it  did  not  recom 
mend  itself  to  her  judgment.  She  told  me  plainly, 
and  with  an  emphasis  I  had  not  before  discovered  in 
her  voice,  that  I  had  committed  a  piece  of  palpable 
folly;  and  then  she  proceeded  to  dilate  on  the 
peculiarities  of  Peskiewitch,  in  terms  that  were 
certainly  not  flattering  to  that  individual. 

I  am  sorry  not  to  have  secured  the  approval  of 
Mrs.  Pulp ;  but  the  experiment  promises  well,  nev 
ertheless.  Mrs.  Peskiewitch  is  a  wrorthy  w^oman, 
and  a  tidy,  enterprising  housekeeper. 

The  children — there  are  two  of  them — are  tol 
erably  well  trained.  One  of  them  had  the  habit 
of  brandishing  the  soup-ladle  at  the  dinner-table, 
much  as  an  Afghan  horseman  does  his  cimeter 
when  riding  into  battle;  and  the  othei  has,  on 
two  or  three  occasions,  cast  my  slippers  and  hand 
kerchief  into  the  grate.  But  I  am  gradually  dis 
couraging  these  performances ;  and,  though  now 
and  then  provoked  by  some  juvenile  prank,  I 


48  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

reflect  liow  much  better  it  is  that  I  should  suffer 
these  trifling  annoyances,  than  that  these  children 
should  want  for  bread — which  I  fear  has  sometimes 
been  the  case,  while  their  father  was  employed  in 
composing  criticisms  for  the  Mirror. 

As  for  Peskiewitch,  I  contrive  to  make  him  use 
ful  in  various  respects.  I  have  employed  him,  dur 
ing  most  of  the  time  for  the  last  three  weeks,  in 
fitting  up  the  front  chamber  for  a  library-room.  I 
have  been  guided  by  his  judgment  in  the  selection 
of  the  books,  and  I  must  confess,  that,  so  far  as 
elegance  of  binding  and  uniformity  of  size  are 
concerned,  I  have  never  known  a  more  attractive 
collection. 


Festiewitch  dilates  on  the  career  of  the  Strong  minded       P.  f>0. 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  49 


LETTER  FOURTH. 

MR.  TRAP  IS  VISITED  BY  TWO  NOTABLE  FEMALES,    AND    CONSID 
ERABLY  EDIFIED  BY  HIS  FRIEND,  PESKIEWITCH. 

THE  house  is  honored  this  week  by  the  presence 
of  two  distinguished  guests,  for  whose  company  I 
am  indebted  to  my  invaluable  Peskiewitch. 

They  are  two  enterprising  females;  one  is  an 
authoress  of  world-wide  celebrity,  and  the  other  is 
what  she  calls  a  "reformer."  (I  questioned  Pes 
kiewitch,  privately,  as  to  the  meaning  of  this  latter 
term,  when  appropriated  by  a  modern  woman,  per 
ceiving  at  once  by  the  demeanor  of  Mrs.  Harrow- 
scratch  that  it  must  have  acquired  some  recondite 
signification  during  the  last  twenty  years ;  but  Pes 
kiewitch  said  that  my  inquiry  wTas  too  profound  to 
be  answered  extemporaneously,  and  too  important 
to  be  answered  in  haste ;  and  so  he  has  promised  to 
investigate  the  matter,  and  furnish  me  with  an 
elaborate  reply  in  writing.) 

Miss  Roxana  Peeler,  the  authoress,  and  Mrs. 
Judah  Harrowscratch,  the  reformer,  are,  of  course, 

astonishingly  intellectual.     I  confess,  Frank,  I  have 
3 


50  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

been  hitherto  deplorably  ignorant  of  intellectual 
society;  and  am  now  quite  unfitted  to  hold  inter 
course  with  minds  as  gifted  and  soaring  as  those  of 
my  distinguished  guests. 

I  observe  that  Miss  Peeler  never  condescends  to 
use  words  of  less  than  four  syllables,  except  in 
compassion  toward  very  inferior  minds ;  while  Mrs. 
Harrowscratch  deals  in  a  language  as  strange  to  my 
ears  as  the  ancient  Egyptian.  After  listening  to 
this  lady's  first  speech — for  by  this  term  must  I 
dignify  the  first  observations  she  addressed  to  me — 
I  rushed  to  the  Dictionary,  (Webster's  Unabridged,) 
with  two  or  three  of  the  last  words  clutched  in  my 
memory,  in  order  to  find  out,  if  possible,  what  it 
all  meant. 

But  not  one  of  those  mysterious  words  did  I  find ; 
and  it  was  rather  consoling  to  ascertain  that  Web 
ster  was,  apparently,  as  ignorant  of  them  as  myself; 
though  I  could  not  lose  sight  of  the  difficulty  of 
prosecuting  an  acquaintance  with  one  who  persisted 
in  ignoring  the  common  forms  of  speech. 

As  usual,  I  resorted  to  Peskiewitch  for  information. 

"Can  you  tell  me,"  said  I,  "what  that  intrepid 
and  sonorous  lady  intended  to  say  to  me?" 

Peskiewitch  wal  plunged  deep  in  reverie.  lie 
did  not  hear  me,  apparently. 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  51 

"I  fear,"  resumed  I,  "that  I  must  have  appeared 
a  little  foolish  in  trying  to  make  my  acknowledg 
ments  for  that  handsome  address ;  but  the  truth  is, 
I  scarcely  understood  a  word  of  the  whole  oration." 

My  friend  shook  his  head  expressively. 

"She  is  a  wonderful  female,"  said  he,  solemnly; 
"her  developments  are  wonderful." 

"But  do  you  understand  her? — is  she  intelligi 
ble?"  demanded  I. 

"That  depends,"  answered  Peskiewitch,  eva 
sively,  "on  the  question  whether  I  occupy  her 
SPHERE  or  not." 

"Her  sphere?" 

"Yes;  and  whether  there  be  a  harmonic  con 
junction." 

"A  harmonic  conjunction!  What  the  deuce  may 
that  be  ?' 

"Why,  that's  a  sort  of  interfusion  of  the  normal 
afFectionalities." 

"Yes,  I  remember  that  was  one  of  her  phrases; 
but  what,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  does  it  mean?" 

"Now  God  forbid  that  I  should  presume  to  in 
terpret  her  sublime  language,"  answered  P.,  scratch 
ing  his  head  vehemently;  "but  I  am  satisfied 
there's  something  great  at  the  bottom  of  it — 
indeed,  she  is  the  leader  of  an  association  of  hide- 


52  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

pendent  females,  known  all  over  the  world  as  THE 
STRONG-MINDED  WOMEN." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Trap.  It  is  the  most  wonderful  asso 
ciation  the  world  ever  saw." 

"Ah!" 

"Every  female  belonging  to  it  has  a  MISSION. 
You  heard  Mrs.  Judah  Harrowscratch  say  she  had 
a  mission,  did  you  not?  " 

"Yes;  and,  by  the  way,  she  has  a  remarkably 
masculine  voice  to  fulfill  it  wdth,  besides." 

"A  capital  voice  for  the  bar  or  the  Senate,  Mr. 
Trap.  What  cadences !  " 

"Do  you  mean  that  the  MISSION  of  these  ladies 
points  in  that  direction?" 

"Even  so;  besides  their  ' mission,'  these  females 
all  have  a  '  career.' ' 

"Ah,  really!" 

"Yes  ;  and  they  have  a  'destiny  to  fulfill ;'  'as 
pirations  to  realize ; '  and  the  '  dignity  of  woman 
to  vindicate.'  Indeed,  Mr.  Trap,  you  have  no  idea 
to  what  arduous  undertakings  they  are  pledged." 

I  mused  for  a  few  moments  without  reply.  In 
spite  of  myself,  I  felt  a  little  troubled  by  the 
information  Peskiewitch  had  afforded  me. 

"And  do  these  strong-minded   ladies,"   said  I, 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  53 

"among  their  other  arduous  labors,  contemplate 
abolishing  the  English  language?" 

"Undoubtedly,"  answered  my  friend;  "and  they 
will  give  you  the  best  of  reasons  for  sweeping  it 
away,  root  and  branch." 

"That  were  surely  barbarous,"  said  I,  with  mo 
mentary  indignation;  "what!  abolish  the  language 
of  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  of  Goldsmith  and  Irv 
ing,  of  Macaulay  and  Prescott?" 

"  Why,  you  must  know,  Mr.  Trap,"  returned  my 
friend,  sententiously,  "that  every  great  develop 
ment  of  humanity  must  have  a  language  befitting  its 
ideas.  The  English  tongue  answered  the  purposes 
of  the  benighted  Past  well  enough ;  but  it  won't 
do  for  the  developments  of  the  present  age.  We 
have  so  many  new  and  tremendous  ideas,  and  we 
progress  at  such  furious  speed  now-a-days,  that 
the  old  vehicle  of  speech  breaks  down  with  us. 
We  must  have  words  of  ten  or  twelve  syllables  to 
bear  up  our  great  thoughts,  and  the  terminations 
must  be  such  as  suggest  something  delicious,  har 
monious,  and  Paradisaical.  Moreover,  the  English 
tongue  \vas  formed  in  a  debased  state  of  society, 
and  recognizes  the  subjection  of  the  woman  to  the 
man ;  now,  do  you  think  that  these  strong-minded 
females,  when  they  shall  have  accomplished  their 


54  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

*  mission,'  and  run  their  «  career,'  and  secured  their 
independence  of  masculine  authority,  and  made 
society  over  according  to  their  own  pattern — will 
tolerate  a  language  spoken  in  the  days  of  their 
bondage,  and  only  adapted  to  a  servile  womanhood? 
]^p,  sir ;  they  will  have  a  new  vocabulary  through 
out,  if  it  be  only  for  the  sake  of  showing  you  what 
they  are  capable  of;  and  if  they  invent  an  unintel 
ligible  language,  it  will  only  afford  them  another 
facility  for  intrigue,  and  for  plotting  against  their 
oppressors ! " 

I  was  quite  daunted  by  this  powerful  reasoning, 
and  seriously  considered  how  I  might  propitiate 
my  formidable  guests,  so  as  not  to  become  involved 
in  their  renovating  "mission." 


THE   TANGLET'OWN   LETTERS.  55 


LETTER   FIFTH. 

MR.  TRAP  IS  PUT  IN  POSSESSION  OF  A  REMARKABLE  LITERARY 
SECRET,  AND  A  QUESTION  OF  THE  FIRST  IMPORTANCE  IS  AL- 
MO.T  DISCUSSED. 

AFTER  the  speech  to  which  I  have  alluded,  Mrs. 
Harrowscratch  did  not  favor  us  with  more  of  her 
company  for  the  day  —  confining  herself  to  her 
chamber,  in  order  to  complete,  as  she  informed  me, 
an  Essay  on  the  "  Conditions  and  Quintessence  of 
Normal  Affection " — a  paper  which,  according  to 
Peskiewitch,  is  destined  to  convulse  human  society. 

Miss  Peeler,  howrever,  having  no  literary  labor 
on  hand  at  present,  gave  us  the  benefit  of  her  soci 
ety  for  the  remainder  of  the  day.  She  is  highly 
communicative  for  so  distinguished  a  person,  talking 
with  the  utmost  freedom  of  her  literary  triumphs, 
and  alluding  to  the  insolence  of  certain  critics  in  a 
manner  that  plainly  indicates  how  superior  she  is 
to  their  censures. 

Her  modesty  and  politeness  are  equally  conspicu 
ous  ;  for,  taking  compassion  on  the  diffidence  that 
unavoidably  possesses  inferior  minds,  when  in  her 


56  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

presence,  she  generously  monopolizes  the  conversa 
tion,  and  exacts  scarcely  more  of  others  than 
pleased  attention  and  occasional  applause. 

"Unquestionably,  Mr.  Trap  would  be  entertained 
by  hearing  the  commencement  of  my  career  as  an 
authoress?"  suggested  Miss  Peeler. 

I  assured  Miss  Peeler  that  she  would  oblige  me 
extremely  by  rehearsing  the  happy  circumstance. 

"You  must  not  be  too  much  astonished,  then," 
resumed  the  lady,  making  a  deprecating  gesture, 
"when  I  inform  you  that  I  experienced  my  first 
triumph  as  a  writer,  in  so  humble  a  journal  as  the 
«  Sweet  Brier '  of  Boston ! " 

I  endeavored  to  be  as  little  astonished  as  the 
nature  of  the  communication  would  admit. 

"Yes,"  resumed  Miss  Peeler,  "my  entrance  into 
the  field  of  Literature  was  quite  fortuitous.  There 
happened  to  be  several  ugly  women  of  my  acquaint 
ance,  whom  I  had  caricatured  for  the  innocent 
amusement  of  particular  friends— describing  them 
of  course  under  fictitious  names,  and  winding  up 
the  sketches  with  some  sharp  advice,  after  the 
manner  of  Mrs.  Caudle.  It  chanced  one  day  that  I 
exhibited  some  of  these  papers  to  my  brother — 
the  eloquent  Keverend  Pompous  Peeler — and  he 
was  so  much  amused  by  them,  that  he  procured 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  57 

their  insertion  in  the  '  Sweet  Brier,'  over  my 
popular  signature  of  DELIA  DAISY.  They  were  uni 
versally  admired — the  newspapers  copied  them  — 
and  the  publisher  of  the '  Sweet  Brier '  immediately 
engaged  me  as  a  regular  contributor,  at  a  handsome 
remuneration." 

Peskie witch,  who,  with  myself,  was  listening  to 
this  confidential  statement,  here  launched  forth  a 
stream  of  rather  murky  rhetoric,  in  praise  of  those 
successful  sketches;  after  which  the  eminent 
authoress  resumed  : 

"  But  the  article  that  elicited  the  most  meritori 
ous  acclamation  was  my  letter  to  the  French  Em 
press.  I  labored  that  article  for  two  days,  eating 
red  pepper  and  drinking  vinegar  all  the  while ;  and 
I  believe  that  I  made  it  express  all  the  hatred,  and 
all  the  contempt,  and  all  the  abhorrence  felt  by 
our  virtuous  and  modest  American  women,  for  the 
creature  who  degraded  herself  to  a  marriage  with 
Louis  Napoleon." 

"  That  was  grand  !  "  exclaimed  Peskiewitch  ; 
"how  the  French  Empress  must  have  smarted 
under  your  castigation !  " 

"Provided  she  ever  became  conscious  of  it,"  said 
I,  "  for  possibly  Miss  Peeler's  reputation  was  not 

so  great  at  that  time,  as    to  make  her  writings 
3* 


58  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

generally  known  at  the  French  court.  The  '  Sweet 
Brier '  is  doubtless  universally  read  in  Boston,  and 
by  all  persons  on  the  lookout  for  choice  specimens 
of  American  literature ;  but  it  may  be,  neverthe 
less,  that  the  superficial  people  of  Paris  are  quite 
ignorant  of  its  merits." 

"  American  newspapers,"  answered  Miss  Peeler, 
"  are  widely  read  in  Europe,  and  our  literature  is 
highly  popular  there.  Witness  the  unprecedented 
sale  of  my  ' Daisy  Stalks'  among  the  English. 
However,  as  regards  the  letter  in  question,  I 
directed  that  a  copy  should  be  duly  mailed  to  the 
Empress  Eugenia  —  enclosing  my  real  name,  so 
that  she  might  have  an  opportunity  to  clear  up 
her  character  in  a  reply,  provided  she  should  have 
any  palliating  facts  to  offer  for  her  conduct." 

"  That  was  genero-us,"  observed  Peskiewitch ; 
"I  suppose  you  never  heard  from  her,  though." 

"Never,"  responded  Miss  Peeler;  "but  I  en 
joyed  the  satisfaction  of  letting  her  know  what 
the  sentiments  of  American  females  are  in  regard 
to  such  things." 

"Yes,"  said  Peskiewitch,  profoundly,  "Amer 
ican  females  are  notable  females,  altogether; 
they  have  a  regard  to  propriety — even  my  wife 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.          59 

has,   though    not  by   any   means   an    intellectual 
person !  " 

"I  am  not  so  sure,"  I  observed,  (thinking  of 
Amelia's  marriage  with  Belshazzar,)  "that  we  have 
not  here  and  there  a  countrywoman  who  would  have 
married  Louis  Napoleon  readily  enough,  for  the 
sake  of  the  power  and  position  he  had  to  bestow." 

"It  is  a  libelous  thought,  sir !  "  exclaimed  Miss 
Peeler;  "American  women  respect  themselves; 
they  never  marry  from  sordid  motives ;  but  always 
prefer  character  to  money,  and  affection  to  station 
and  show." 

"True,"  affirmed  Peskiewitch ;  "there  never 
was  an  American  girl  dazzled  by  a  rich  suitor,  nor 
one  that  stifled  the  best  desire  of  her  heart  for  the 
sake  of  having  servants  in  livery  and  owning  a  car 
riage!"  But  this  must  have  been  said  in  irony, 
for  Peskiewitch  knows  Amelia's  history  as  well  as 
I  do. 

Mrs.  Pulp  came  in  at  this  juncture,  and  the 
conversation  was  broken,  off. 

Mrs.  Pulp  remained  till  tea,  and  during  the 
meal,  undertook  to  impart  some  information  to  the 
housekeeper  concerning  the  best  method  of  making 
tarts.  But,  for  some  reason,  Mrs.  Peskiewitch  was 


60  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

loth  to  be  instructed ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  the  lec 
ture,  one  of  the  children  launched  a  stewed  plum 
full  upon  the  lace  collar  of  my  guest,  which  nat 
urally  enough  changed  the  subject. 

I  must  see  that  these  children  are  kept  from  the 
table  when  we  have  company. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  61 


LETTER  SIXTH. 

MR.    TRAP    IS    ASSAILED,    BOTH    IN    HIS    PRINCIPLES    AND     HIS 

TEMPER;    AND    MARVELS    AT    THE    DOCTRINES    OF    MRS. 
HARROWSCRATCH. 

YESTEEDAY  I  experienced  a  number  of  annoy 
ances  ;  and,  although  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  con 
fess  it,  my  temper  was  a  little  chafed  by  them. 

In  the  morning,  before  I  had  enjoyed  my  coffee, 
I  was  addressed  by  Mrs.  Judah  Harrowscratch,  in 
another  long  oration,  the  general  scope  of  which 
seemed  to  bear  upon  her  mission,  though  the 
details  of  the  thing  were  for  some  time  utterly 
incomprehensible.  At  last,  by  dint  of  the  closest 
attention,  and  a  pretty  sharp  exercise  of  the 
inductive  faculty,  I  began  to  apprehend  portions 
of  the  discourse. 

I  own  I  was  not  prepared  to  hear  the  sentiments 
which  this  lady  had  the  intrepidity  to  deliver. 

Perhaps  the  fault  is  in  myself.  Perhaps,  ab 
sorbed  in  business  as  I  have  been  for  twenty  years, 
I  have  fallen  hopelessly  behind  the  better  lights  of 
our  time.  Perhaps  I  am  the  victim  of  ignoble 


62  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

prejudices,  which  I  have  gradually  come  to  mis 
take  for  principles,  and  am,  therefore,  blinded  to 
the  real  propriety  and  consistency  of  some  of  our 
new  philosophies. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  there  is  something  in  me  that 
revolts,  persistently,  against  the  ethics  of  Mrs. 
Harrowscratch ;  arid  I  can  not  help  thinking  that 
some  of  the  objects  of  her  "mission"  are  rather 
unwomanly. 

The  valiant  and  rhetorical  lady  may  be  entitled 
to  the  right  of  suffrage,  and  may  even  be  eligible 
to  Congress — and,  indeed,  her  marvelous  fluency 
of  speech  would  render  her  very  efficient  in  can 
vassing  a  district,  while  her  equivocal  phraseology 
would  avert  the  chance  of  her  being  committed, 
beforehand,  to  any  intelligible  policy — but  I 
should  dislike  to  see  her  employ  her  new  political 
power  for  the  abrogation  of  marriage,  and  the  re 
moval  of  those  bonds  and  safeguards  provided  in 
the  family  connection. 

These  are  new  propositions  to  me,  Frank,  and  I 
can  not  look  at  them  with  any  favor.  Is  it  not 
true,  as  I  have  always  supposed,  that  marriage  pre 
scribes  the  irrevocable  condition  of  a  healthy  moral 
relation  between  the  sexes? — that  civilization  and 
virtue  have  prospered  with  its  observance,  and 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTEKS.  63 

suffered  by  its  neglect,  through  all  the  range  of 
history?  Is  not  this  still  the  general  persuasion 
of  mankind,  or  has  the  opinion  been  disproved  by 
the  "Spirit  of  the  Age?" 

Possibly  the  views  I  hold  on  the  subject  are  so 
obsolete  among  cultivated  persons,  as  to  have  be 
come  simply  ridiculous ;  but  I  would  really  like  to 
know  whether  it  is  the  mission  of  "modern  reform," 
and  especially  of  the  "strong-minded  women,"  to 
wrench  out  from  the  social  ship  this  broad  plank, 
on  which  so  many  precious  things  appear  to  rest  ?  * 

I  could  not  help  expressing  to  Mrs.  Harrow- 
scratch  my  disapproval  of  certain  of  her  doctrines — 
thereby  lowering  myself  very  much  in  the  lady's 
estimation. 

She  had  hoped  better  things  of  me,  she  said. 
She  lamented  to  see  so  well-meaning  a  person  as 
myself,  enthralled  by  pitiful  superstitions,  awed  by 

*  We  presume  that  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  according  to  Mr.  Trap's 
account  of  her,  can  not  be  justly  said  to  represent  the  views  of  the 
"strong-minded,"  as  a  party  — it  being  their  purpose,  if  we  rightly  ap 
prehend  them,  not  to  abolish  marriage,  but  only  to  secure  to  their  sex 
a  larger  percentage  of  profits  on  their  investment.  We  think  it  is  due 
to  the  credit  of  the  "  strong-minded,"  however,  to  formally  excommuni 
cate  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  at  their  next  general  convocation,  in  order  to 
avert  the  odium  of  her  ultra  opinions.  —  [EDITOR  OF  THE  TANGLETOWJJ 
LETTEKS.] 


64  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

the  tyrannical  laws  of  the  Hebrew  God,  and  afraid 
to  participate  in  the  privileges  of  emancipated 
Humanity. 

I  answered  that  every  person  could  not  be  sup 
posed  to  possess  the  heroic  element  that  character 
izes  reformers — that  I  was  not  yet  permitted  to 
see  —  doubtless  on  account  of  my  extreme  stupid 
ity — the  rare  attractions  and  consistency  of  some 
of  her  social  philosophy ;  but  that  I  trusted,  after 
rny  feeble  vision  should  have  accustomed  itself  to 
the  blaze  of  modern  wisdom,  to  make  the  remainder 
of  life's  journey  without  any  serious  blundering, 
though  I  might  travel  far  in  the  rear  of  such  in 
trepid  persons  as  Mrs.  Harrowscratch. 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch  then,  improving  upon  my 
figure,  likened  herself  to  one  of  the  leaders  in  the 
great  army  of  Humanity,  and  myself  to  one  of  the 
dull,  patient  beasts  of  burden,  moping  far  behind 
the  grand  host,  drawing  baggage  and  thinking  of 
my  oats. 

I  was  about  to  retort  with  severity,  but  just 
then  came  the  summons  to  breakfast,  and  with  it 
the  blessed  spirit  of  forbearance. 

At  the  table  things  were  not  as  pleasant  as  I 
could  have  desired. 

One  of  the  children  had  turned  boiling  water 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  65 

upon  his  feet.  This  had  occasioned  Mrs.  Peskie- 
witcli  to  neglect  the  toast,  and  to  hurry  on  the 
meal  in  a  very  crude  and  distracted  state. 

Peskiewitch,  who  has  become  something  of  an 
epicure  during  the  last  few  weeks,  openly  com 
plained  of  his  breakfast. 

This  led  to  a  little  altercation  between  husband 
and  wife,  in  which  the  former  received  a  pungent 
lecture  for  his  indolence,  and  the  latter  was  com 
miserated  in  a  lofty  manner  for  her  ignorance  of 
intellectual  delights. 

Scarcely  had  this  little  discussion  abated,  when 
Mrs.  Harrowscratch  began  an  oration  on  the  servile 
condition  of  woman  in  general,  and  seeming  to 
regard  the  housekeeper  as  a  special  illustration 
of  the  fact. 

Mrs.  Peskiewitch,  considerably  heated  by  the 
events  of  the  morning,  understood  this  as  a  person 
al  reflection,  and  resented  it  with  becoming  spirit. 

Peskiewitch  himself,  full  of  consternation  at  his 
companion's  audacity,  in  presuming  to  enter  into 
controversy  with  that  "wonderful  female,"  as  he 
called  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  spilled  his  coffee  into 
Miss  Peeler's  lap,  and  so  consummated  an  uproar 
scandalous  enough  to  have  disgraced  the  table  of 
any  carousing  old  baron. 


66  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

I  was  excessively  mortified,  and  wished  myself 
in  the  middle  of  the  desert,  before  order  was  re 
stored. 

Taking  Peskiewitch  aside,  soon  as  opportunity 
presented  itself,  I  bade  him  never  suffer  a  like 
scene  to  occur,  if  he  valued  my  friendship. 

I  advised  him,  also,  to  exercise  a  little  more  for 
bearance  toward  his  wife,  and  hinted  that  he  might 
share  some  of  her  cares  without  damaging  his  dig 
nity  as  a  man  of  "intellect." 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTEES.  67 


LETTER  SEVENTH. 

BEING    AN   EXHIBITION  OF    TASTE    IN   MATTERS    LITERARY   AND 
CONVENTIONAL. 

IN  the  course  of  the  same  day  alluded  to  in  my 
last,  came  in  my  friend  Herman,  accompanied  by 
my  young  favorite,  Aurora. 

It  chanced  to  be  a  leisure  day  with  Herman,  and 
he  designed  to  improve  part  of  it  by  looking  over 
the  splendid  collection  of  books  which  Peskiewitch 
had  bought  for  me. 

I  almost  dreaded  to  have  this  critical  reader  enter 
my  library,  for  I  foresaw  that  he  was  not  likely  to 
approve  the  taste  exhibited  in  the  collection. 

He  extended  his  glance  along  the  brilliant  shelves 
with  obvious  and  increasing  disappointment. 

"Your  books  are  remarkable  for  their  showy 
binding,  Mr.  Trap." 

"  Yes,  and  I  fear  they  were  chosen,  as  many  a 
woman  is  for  wifehood,  solely  on  account  of  their 
exterior  beauty." 

"  So  I  should  think.  Why,  I  did  not  know  there 
were  so  many  worthless  books  extant !  Excuse  me, 
Mr.  Trap,  but  here  are  five  shelves  full  of  unmiti- 


68  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

gated  stupidity :  gilt  annuals,  bedizened  magazines, 
Hash  romances,  and  so  on.  I  should  enjoy  pitching 
them  into  the  street,  if  their  authors  were  but 
within  the  covers." 

I  was  really  ashamed  of  the  books  myself,  and  I 
owned  as  much  on  the  spot,  adding  that  I  had  left 
the  whole  business  to  Peskiewitch,  fallaciously 
supposing  him  competent  to  make  a  fair  selection. 

"Peskiewitch!  why  the  fellow  can  have  no  more 
idea  of  a  book  than  a  peacock  has  of  astronomy. 
I  would  not  trust  him  to  buy  an  almanac. 

"Ah,  here  is  something  not  quite  so  bad — 
<BASSELAS,  BY  DR.  JOHNSON'— but  even  this  owes 
the  honor  of  being  found  in  your  collection  to  its 
brilliant  binding— see  how  they  have  gew-gawed 
and  illustrated  it ! 

"And    here,   too,   is   ' GIBBON'S   DECLINE    AND 

FALL' thanks  to  gold  letter  and  a  multitude  of 

engravings — a  London  edition.  And4 THE  VICAR 
OF  WAKEFIELD'  and  even  '  WATTS  ON  THE  MIND,' 
got  in  by  virtue  of  their  gaudy  liveries  or  court 
dresses. 

"What  a  simple  rule  the  fellow  must  have 
observed  in  filling  up  your  shelves.  In  the  first 
place,  he  seems  to  have  decided  that  every  book 
must  have  a  certain  brilliancy  of  ornament  about 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  69 

it,  in  order  to  gain  admittance.  You  see  he  lias 
excluded  Walter  Scott,  and  taken  in  'Ned  Bunt- 
line,'  and  the  *  Pirate's  Own  Book,'  simply  be 
cause  the  latter  have  on  their  wedding  garments, 
and  the  former  probably  had  not. 

"  It 's  the  world's  method  of  treating  men  applied 
to  books. 

"After  all,  perhaps  Peskie  witch  means  to 
insinuate  a  moral  under  all  this  absurdity! 

"But  observe,  in  the  second  place,  how  he  has 
grouped  the  volumes — not  according  to  the  affini 
ties  of  style  and  subject,  but  according  to  the  sim 
ple  rule  of  size  or  measurement.  There  is  a  grave 
book  of 'Moral  Philosophy,  for  instance,  propped 
up  by  half  a  dozen  Novels,  full  of  libertinism  and 
blasphemy !  And  there  is  a  volume  of  '  Newgate 
Confessions,'  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  '  The  Chris 
tian  Comforter,'  while  'Luther'  is  placed  in  the 
most  intimate  relations,  as  you  see,  with  'Lucretia 
Borgia,'  and  'Our  Lady  of  Paris.'  " 

Thus  Herman  proceeded  with  his  humorous  com 
mentary;  and  I  derived  more  entertainment  from 
it,  I  dare  say,  than  I  shall  ever  realize  from  an  ac 
tual  perusal  of  this  ridiculous  collection. 

I  am  vexed  at  Peskiewitch  for  having  undertaken 
a  commission  he  was  so  poorly  qualified  to  execute; 


70  THE   TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

and  at  myself  for  having  entrusted  so  important  a 
business  to  his  judgment. 

What  can  I  do  with  the  books?  There  are 
about  seven  hundred  dollars'  worth  in  all — that  is, 
estimating  them  at  the  bookseller's  prices. 

I  can  not  give  them  away;  for  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  present  to  another  what  I  value  so 
little  myself.  Neither  can  I  make  up  my  mind  to 
burn  them,  for  that  would  make  me  appear  like  a 
barbarian  or  a  bigot. 

Perhaps  I  had  better  allow  them  to  remain,  as  a 
memento  of  my  folly,  and  of  Peskiewitch's  literary 
taste. 

We  were  about  leaving  the  library,  when  Aurora 
came  in. 

The  child  was  breathing  hard,  and  her  eyes 
sparkled  with  excitement. 

"0  father!"  exclaimed  she,  "let  us  go  home; 
I  've  just  seen  a  gipsy-woman." 

"  A  gipsy-woman?  "  said  I ;  "that  must  be  some 
thing  new  in  Tangletown.  What  do  you  know 
about  gipsies,  little  pet?" 

"0,  a  great  deal;  I  heard  father  read  about  'em, 
ever  so  much,  in  a  book." 

"I  thought  the  little  night-hawk  was  asleep," 


THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.  71 

said  Herman.    "But  where  did  you  see  your  gipsy, 
my  child?" 

"It  was  right  down  here  in  Mr.  Trap's  garden. 
Look ! "  she  cried,  bounding  to  the  window,  and 
pointing  as  she  spoke  —  "there  she  is! " 

"We  looked  out,  and  instantly  saw  the  cause  of 
the  child's  alarm. 

It  was  a  dark,  stoutly-built  female,  in  silk  pants, 
muslin  frock  coat,  and  palm-leaf  hat.  She  was 
walking  up  and  down  one  of  the  avenues,  at  a 
slow,  meditative  pace,  supporting  herself  by  a  cane, 
and — I  shrink  from  the  incredible  statement — ac 
tually  smoking  a  cigar  i 

I  cast  a  quick  look  at  Herman,  and  realized  a 
new  sensation. 

Herman  was  gazing  steadfastly  at  the  apparition, 
while  a  ray  of  intelligence  broke  gradually  over 
his  face. 

At  length,  with  a  half-puzzled  air,  he  smiled, 
squinted  at  the  apparition,  and  said, 

"I  seem  to  have  read  something  about  this  new 
species  of  female." 

I  felt  rivers  of  blood  running  into  my  face.  He 
continued,  very  moderately, 

"The  newspapers  call  it—" 

"What?" 


72  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

" BOOZLE,  I  think.  Doesn't  that  strike  you  as 
being  the  name  ? 

"  The  name  of  what  ?  " 

"  Of  this  newly  developed  genus.  It  is  about 
making  a  universal  seizure  !  " 

"  A  universal  seizure !  " 

"  Of  pantaloons  and  standing  collars !  Or  rather," 
he  added,  meditatively, — 

I  waited  in  trepidation  for  the  remainder  of  the 
revelation — 

"  The  genus,  woman,  is  about  to  emerge  from  the 
chrysalis  state,  represented  by  the  flowing  robe, 
(vulgarly  called  petticoat,)  into  the  winged  state, 
represented  by  suspenders,  dashing  green  cravats, 
and  other  like  symbols !  " 

There  it  was  again.  The  w^orld  had  taken 
another  lurch  while  I  was  watching  the  steamboats. 

"  But  I  ask  your  pardon,  Mr.  Trap  ;  perhaps  this 
lady  is  one  of  your  guests  ?  " 

"  No,  heaven  forbid !  " 

"  The  Boozle  is  coming  in,"  exclaimed  Aurora, 
directing  our  attention  again  to  the  apparition. 

So  she  was. 

"The  lady  appears  to  be  quite  at  home,"  ob 
served  Herman;  "she  w^alks  as  though  she  had  a 
deed  of  Tangletown  in  her  pocket,  and  was  pros- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  73 

pective  heir  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  Don't  you 
know  who  it  is,  Mr.  Trap?" 

I  stammered  most  disgracefully;  for  as  sure  as 
fate,  I  had  recognized  in  that  outlandish  female,  my 
veritable  guest,  Mrs.  Harrowscratch. 

At  that  instant  Peskiewitch  came  in. 

"Is  n't  it  admirable?  isn't  it  brave?"  cried  that 
singular  person. 

"Isn't  what?" 

"Why,  the  new  costume  Mrs.  Harrowscratch 
wears.  Haven't  you  seen  her?" 

"  Peskiewitch,  you  are  a  dunce !  And  as  for  that 
woman — " 

I  checked  myself;  but  really  for  a  moment  I  was 
ferocious  as  a  stag  at  bay. 


74  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 


LETTER    EIGHTH. 

CONTAINING    PESKIEWITCH's      ELOQUENT     AND     MAGNANIMOUS 
DEFENCE  OF  MRS.  HARROWSCRATCH. 

I  HAVE  suffered  not  a  little  mortification  on 
account  of  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  since  I  wrote  you 
last. 

The  day  of  the  apparition,  this  courageous  per 
son  marched  through  some  of  the  principal  streets 
of  Tangletown,  in ,  all  the  nonchalance  of  that 
incredible  costume ;  and  Peskiewitch  was  rash 
enough  to  bear  her  company. 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch  was  not  intimidated  by  the 
gaze  of  the  town ;  she  was  serenely  indifferent  to 
the  free  observations  which  her  appearance  called 
out  from  the  rude-minded;  and  she  gave  every 
body  to  understand  that  she  was  ready  to  go  to  the 
stake,  if  necessary,  in  testimony  of  her  devotion  to 
pantaloons.  (She  submits  to  the  degradation  of 
skirts  only  in  company  with  Miss  Peeler,  who  is 
not  yet  "ripe"  for  the  Boozle  costume,  and  whose 
friendship  and  influence  are  of  the  first  importance 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  75 

to  the  reformer,  as  they  afford  her  many  facilities 
for  the  prosecution  of  her  "mission.") 

Peskiewitch  ought  to  have  known  better,  I  think ; 
but  the  fellow  actually  feels  such  a  sincere  admira 
tion  for  this  woman,  that  he  has  taken  vast  pains 
to  inform  people  that  she  is  my  guest;  and  the 
consequence  is,  I  can  not  step  into  the  street 
without  being  quizzed  by  some  waggish  friend. 

Perhaps  you  may  regard  this  as  a  trivial  circum 
stance  ;  but  what  man  can  stand  in  a  ridiculous 
position  without  having  his  equanimity  jogged? 

Since  the  conversation  mentioned  in  my  last 
letter,  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  has  not  directly  urged 
her  doctrines  upon  me.  She  has,  however,  on  sev 
eral  occasions,  intimated  a  desire  to  present  them, 
in  a  public  lecture,  to  "the  friends  of  human 
enlightenment"  in  Tangletown.  I  shall,  of  course, 
resist  such  a  step  to  the  last  extremity ;  but  I  feel  a 
secret  terror  sometimes,  lest,  through  the  machina 
tions  of  Peskiewitch,  and  her  own  dauntless  intre 
pidity —  she  may  succeed  in  accomplishing  her 
purpose. 

I  really  tremble  at  the  thought. 

Last  evening  I  had  rather  an  unpleasant  con 
versation  with  the  housekeeper  about  our  guest. 

Mrs.  Peskiewitch  has  conceived  a  strong  dislike 


76  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

toward  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  which  is  not  miti 
gated  by  her  husband's  avowed  admiration  of  the 
"wonderful  female."  "It's  a  burning  shame," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Peskiewitch,  "that  this  brazen 
faced  creature  should  be  running  about  the 
world,  making  such  a  spectacle  of  herself,  and 
taking  on  such  airs,  too !  " 

The  reformer  has,  indeed,  been  rather  unconscious 
of  the  housekeeper  since  their  late  collision. 

"A  fine,  way  it  is  to  employ  one's  self,"  con 
tinued  Mrs.  Peskiewitch,  "when  one  has  a  husband 
and  children  at  home,  abandoned  and  left  to  shift 
as  they  can!" 

Now  I  had  understood  from  Peskiewitch  that 
the  reformer  had  buried  her  husband. 

"And  so  he  told  me,"  said  Mrs.  Peskiewitch,  indig 
nantly;  "but  when  I  found  out  the  contrary,  which 
I  did  by  some  words  dropped  by  the  book-making 
lady  —  and  charged  him  with  trying  to  deceive  me, 
he  had  the  face  to  answer  that  he  s^okejibbitively — 
that  she  had  buried  him  in  contempt,  or  some  such 
thing." 

I  was  highly  incensed  against  Peskiewitch  on 
learning  this,  and  straightway  invited  him  to  a  pri 
vate  interview.  But  the  fellow  speedily  disarmed 
me  with  his  serene  impudence  and  affected  candor. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  77 

True  he  had  used  an  equivocal  phrase,  in  explain 
ing  Mrs.  Harrowscratch's  position;  and  he  had 
intended  to  qualify  it,  but  he  had  been  so  absorbed 
in  our  guest,  etc. 

"But  how  does  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  justify  this 
desertion  of  her  family?" 

"  On  humanitarian  grounds,  sir,  if  I  may  quote 
her  own  words." 

I  was  amazed. 

"Why,  you  see,  the  husband  of  this  wonderful 
female  is  but  a  stupid  fellow  at  best — not  at  all 
intellectual,  or  interested  in  the  *  enfranchisement 
of  society,'  any  more  than  is  my  wife." 

"Well." 

"  Was  it  to  have  been  expected  that  a  woman  so 
magnificently  gifted  as  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  could 
limit  her  beneficence  to  such  a  clod,  while  human 
ity  pined  for  her  ministry?" 

I  blinked  a  little,  I  confess,  before  this  imposing 
rhetoric. 

"Was  it  to  have  been  expected,"  continued  Pes- 
kiewitch,  putting  himself  into  a  parliamentary 
attitude,  and  pinning  me  to  the  wall  with  a  glance 
of  piercing  earnestness— -¥  that  a  woman  intended 
by  nature  to,  teach  nations  —  that  a  female  so  admi- 
~ably  qualified  to  direct  the  '  Spirit  of  the  Age' — 


78  THE  TAXGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

could  be  confined  to  the  petty  routine  of  house 
hold  drudgery,  to  the  care  of  children — especially 
during  the  sickly  season" — (added  Mr.  P.,  impress 
ively,) — "and  to  skirts,  which  are  not  only  incon 
venient  in  ascending  stairs,  but  also  a  badge  of 
submission — a  symbol  of  servitude?" 

Here  Peskiewitch  took  breath,  and  I  took  advan 
tage  of  the  pause  to  enjoy  an  exhilarating  laugh. 

The  fact  is,  I  am  rather  losing  confidence  in  Pes 
kiewitch,  as  an  authority ;  but  perhaps  his  absur 
dities  may  amuse,  since  his  wisdom  can  not  instruct 
me. 

I  am  fond  of  thinking  that  every  man  is  good  for 
something,  if  tried  in  his  proper  function.  Even 
rubies  are  made  more  brilliant  by  a  foil,  and  com 
mon  sense  may  owe  half  its  value  to  the  whims 
and  follies  against  wrhich  it  stands  revealed. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  79 


LETTER  NINTH. 

SHOWING     HOW     MR.    TRAP     HIMSELF     BECAME     A     REFORMER, 
THOUGH    NOT    ONE    OF    THE    POPULAR    SCHOOL. 

I  HAVE  been  out  on  a  little  business  with 
Aurora. 

The  other  day  I  said  to  the  child,  "If  you  find 
any  people  in  misfortune,  who  can  be  made  more 
comfortable  with  a  little  money,  come  and  tell  me, 
and  we  will  go  together  and  see  them." 

Accordingly,  this  morning  came  my  little  pet  to 
say  that  there  was  a  poor  woman  down  in  Bonus 
street,  whose  child  lay  sick  of  the  fever,  who  had 
no  bread  in  the  house,  and  who,  moreover,  was  in 
danger  of  being  turned  out  of  doors  because  she 
had  no  money  to  pay  her  rent. 

In  half  an  hour  we  were  at  this  woman's  door. 
It  was  such  a  tenement  as  the  poorest  of  the  poor 
are  obliged  to  shelter  themselves  in.  It  embraced 
two  small  rooms,  one  fronting  the  narrow  street, 
full  of  pigs  and  filth,  and  the  other  adjoining  the- 
muddy  water  of  the  canal,  with  but  a  strip  of 
intervening  ground. 


80  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

No  one  came  to  answer  our  knock ;  so  we  pushed 
the  door  softly  open  and  passed  in. 

A  boy,  some  ten  years  old,  was  lying  on  the 
floor,  with  his  face  hidden  in  his  hair,  and  a  bundle 
of  rags  strung  over  his  body.  In  the  next  room  — 
visible  by  the  open  door — was  a  bed.  On  the  bed 
lay  a  little  girl,  somewhat  larger  than  Aurora,  with 
closed  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks,  and  heavy  tresses 
of  black  hair  lying  upon  her  shoulders  and  bosom. 
By  the  side  of  the  bed,  crouched  upon  the  floor, 
with  her  head  bowed  between  her  hands,  silent 
and  motionless,  sat  a  woman. 

Neither  of  these  persons  seemed  conscious  of  our 
presence,  until  a  sob  from  Aurora,  whose  inexperi 
enced  heart  was  penetrated  by  the  picture  that  met 
her  sight,  caused  the  woman  to  lift  her  head. 

"  You  appear  to  be  in  affliction,  my  good  woman," 
I  remarked,  by  way  of  introducing  our  mission. 

She  only  gave  me  a  hard,  severe  look,  and  then 
glanced  at  my  little  companion. 

"We  have  come  to  see  if  we  can  render  you  any 
assistance." 

The  woman  stood  up,  and  folding  her  arms  across 
her  breast,  regarded  me  with  a  bitter  smile. 

"And  what  am  I  to  you,"  she  said,  "that  you 
should  care  for  me?" 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTEKS.  81 

"You  are  a  human  being,  madam,  and  we  are 
tauglit—  " 

"I  am  not!  I  am  a  devil;  and  if  you  wish  to 
befriend  me,  then  kill  me — kill  me  on  the  spot!" 

Her  lips  grew  white,  and  her  eyes  flashed,  as  she 
said  this,  and  she  was  truly  terrible  with  fury. 

"You  must  have  suffered  much  to  have  brought 
you  to  this  state  of  mind,"  I  said,  "but  God  has 
not  forgotten  you,  after  all." 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  God,"  she  ejaculated. 
"I  have  been  mocked  enough  with  his  name, 
already.''  Then,  with  an  indescribable  ferocity, 
she  continued:  "No,  sir,  don't  speak  to  me  of 
God,  for  if  there  be  such  a  being,  he  is  the  God  of 
the  Rich,  but  not  of  the  Poor. 

"  Here,  these  twelve  long  years,  have  I  suffered, 
me  and  mine,  and  looked  to  Him  for  help  in  vain. 
Where  was  he  when  my  first-born  died,  after  weeks 
of  racking  pain?  Where  was  he  when  Alfred — 
that's  my  brave  and  kind  husband — was  washed 
overboard  in  the  midnight  tempest,  and  swallowed 
up  in  the  cruel  waves?  Where  was  He,  I  say, 
when  I  cried  to  him  in  my  widowhood  and  my 
want,  in  all  the  dreary  years  that  came  after? 
YV'HERE  WAS  HE — this  God  that  priests  and  hypo 
crites  prate  of — while  the  rich  were  oppressing 


82  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

me,  and  my  children  were  crying  for  bread,  and 
we  all  sat  shivering  in  the  winter  blast,  and  sick 
ness  fell  upon  us,  and  despair  gnawed  away  all 
that  was  good  in  our  hearts? 

"Answer  me  all  this,  and  then  I  may  believe 
that  the  poor  have  a  God,  and  that  he  hears  them 
when  they  cry  to  him." 

While  she  was  going  on  thus,  I  observed  the 
boy  whom  we  had  seen  lying  on  the  floor,  get 
upon  his  feet,  and  look,  with  a  dead,  vacant  stare, 
into  the  room. 

Without  venturing  any  direct  reply,  I  moved  to 
the  bedside,  and  took  the  hand  of  the  sick  child. 

"Have  you  no  doctor?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head,  and  added,  with  an 
indifference  which  her  voice  belied,  "  Where  's  the 
use?  Let  her  die;  'twill  be  better  for  her!  " 

"Poor  woman,"  said  I,  "we  must  prove  to  you 
that  .there  is  some  good  in  the  world  reserved  for 
you  yet." 

I  then  went  out,  leaving  Aurora  in  the  sick 
room. 

In  half  an  hour  I  returned,  with  a  physician  and 
a  nurse. 

I  found  the  woman  sitting  on  the  floor  by  the 
bed,  her  face  bowed  upon  her  hands,  rocking  her- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  83 

self  to  and  fro,  as  if  swayed  by  strong  emotion. 
My  pet  had  knelt  by  her  side,  with  one  hand  rest 
ing  timidly  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Who  conies  now?"  demanded  the  woman, 
rising  as  we  entered,  and  confronting  us  with  a 
morose  look. 

"I  have  brought  a  physician  for  your  child," 
said  I.  "This  is  your  patient,  doctor." 

"And  who  's  this  woman?" 

"This  is  a  nurse,  ma'am,  Mrs.  Cop,  who  will 
relieve  you  of  the  care  of  your  little  girl,  for  the 
present,  so  that  you  may  take  some  rest." 

The  woman's  eyes  flashed,  and  her  voice  trem 
bled,  as  she  exclaimed, 

"Do  you  take  me  for  such  a  brute  as  to  think  I 
would  n't  take  care  of  my  own  child  ?  —  and  she  in 
want  like  this?" 

It  was  some  time  before  I  succeeded  in  soothing 
her  irritation.  At  last  she  visibly  softened.  In 
five  minutes  she  was  hastily  brushing  away  the 
tears  that  filled  her  eyes  in  spite  of  herself.  Poor 
creature !  she  despised  herself  for  those  tears,  and 
would  have  thought  it  a  brave  thing  to  have 
remained  as  insensible  as  flint. 

Meantime  the  doctor  had  made  out  his  prescrip- 


84  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

tions,  and  the  nurse  had  taken  possession  of  her 
charge.     It  was  time  for  us  to  be  gone. 

A  cry  detained  us. 

It  came  from  the  woman  we  had  befriended,  who, 
suddenly  falling  upon  her  knees,  sobbed  loud  and 
long.  Her  congealed  nature  had  thawed  at  last. 

"Who  are  you  that  have  come  to  me  in  my 
extremity,"  she  cried,  "and  melted  my  heart  as  it 
was  turning  into  stone  ?  " 

"  Your  neighbors,  you?  friends,"  I  answered. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  she  exclaimed,  weeping 
and  clasping  her  hands;  "I  never  had  friends 
before.  Through  all  these  years  have  I  struggled 
and  suffered,  and  nobody  cared  for  me — nobody 
gave  me  even  a  friendly  look,  or  tried  to  put  a  ray 
of  hope  in  my  breast.  I  have  been  alone  with 
hard  work,  and  trouble,  and  my  own  bitter 
thoughts,  and  so  I've  grown  cold  and  hard  —  colder 
and  harder  every  day.  O  what  does  it  mean,  that 
I  have  lived  to  know  what  human  kindness  is?" 

"It  means,"  said  I,  "that  God  has  not  forsaken 
you,  though  he  has  suffered  your  life  to  be  dark 
ened  by  affliction.  While  you  despaired  of  his 
aid,  and  denied  his  goodness,  he  prepared  means 
for  your  deliverance.  This  little  child  was  his 
messenger." 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  85 

I  need  not  describe  to  you  what  followed — the 
contrition  and  gratitude  of  this  poor,  weary-hearted 
being  —  now  she  took  Aurora  into  her  arms  and 
kissed  ner — how  her  solicitude  for  her  own  child 
returned  with  her  better  feelings,  and  how  piteously 
she  besought  the  good  doctor  to  preserve  that  pre 
cious  life — how  tenderly  she  spoke  of  the  ragged, 
silent  boy,  whose  reason  had  been  injured  some 
years  before  by  an  accident,  and  who  had  lived  ever 
since  like  one  in  a  dream  —  and  how  I  placed  money 
in  the  widow's  hand  as  I  came  away,  and  thanked 
God,  as  I  led  my  little  pet  homeward,  for  the 
happiness  I  enjoyed  in  the  good  deed  of  that  day. 


"While  I  am  writing,  an  odd,  irrational  whim 
flutters  in  my  fancy.  I  think  I  would  like  to 
assemble  all  the  rich  men  I  know,  and  address 
them  on  the  best  method  of  extracting  happiness 
from  money.  I  suppose  old  Nicholas  Brick,  rea 
soning  from  his  own  experience,  would  deny  the 
possibility  of  such  a  thing,  and  therefore  treat 
every  method  as  equally  chimerical. 


86  THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

I  anticipate  the  general  amazement  and  emphatic 
dissent  of  my  auditors,  upon  the  announcement 
of  my  plan:  INVEST  ONE-HALF  OF  YOUR  INCOME 

IN    THE    POOR,    AND   LIVE   TEMPERATELY    UPON    THE 
REMAINDER. 

Undoubtedly  the  groans  of  disapprobation,  at 
this  stage  of  my  address,  would  be  terrific,  while 
the  more  violent  would  insist  upon  my  being  "put 
out." 

Well-a-day,  Frank,  it  is  nevertheless  true  that 
no  man  can  really  thank  God  for  wealth,  until  he 
begins  to  transmute  it  into  Christian  Beneficence, 
and  wash  it  in  the  tears  of  human  sympathy. 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTEES.  87 


LETTER  TENTH. 

IN  WHICH  AMELIA  RE-APPEARS,  AND  MR.  TRAP  IS  PENSIVE  AND 
MELANCHOLY, 

I  EXPERIENCED  an  agreeable  surprise  this  morning 
in  the  arrival  of  Amelia.  She  is  accompanied  by  a 
number  of  fashionable  persons,  among  whom  is  Mr. 
Chatterton — the  cousin  whom  I  met  with  Amelia 
at  the  opera.  Mr.  Chatterton  is  a  handsome  young 
gentleman,  with  highly  agreeable  manners,  and 
brilliant  accomplishments.  Amelia  appears  to 
enjoy  his  society,  and  he  is  devoted  in  his  atten 
tions  to  her — being  her  natural  protector,  I  suppose, 
in  the  absence  of  her  husband. 

Amelia  uniformly  exhibits  considerable  gayety, 
though  she  is  subject  to  an  occasional  relapse  into 
the  deepest  melancholy.  Twice,  to-day,  I  caught 
myself  watching  the  play  of  her  features,  and 
musing  on  the  dreariness  of  her  fate. 

It  seems  that  Amelia  was  already  acquainted 
with  Mrs.  Harrowscratch.  They  are,  indeed,  on 
quite  familiar  terms.  This  surprises  me,  for  I  can 
not  conceive  how  a  lady  possessing  Amelia's  refine 
ment  of  manners  and  delicacy  of  feeling,  can  find 


88  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

any  congenial  attributes  in  a  nature  so  masculine 
as  that  of  this  unsexed  reformer.  I  am  sure  she 
can  not  have  seen  her  arrayed  in  the  Boozle  cos 
tume,  for  that  were  a  provocation  not  to  be 
endured — so  I  beg  leave  to  think — by  one  having 
more  delicacy  than  an  average  man.* 


I  pay  a  visit  every  day  to  the  poor  family  which 
I  described  to  you  in  my  last.  Mrs.  Rachel — for 
that  is  the  widow's  name — is  sincerely  grateful  foi 
my  assistance,  and  never  ceases  to  reproach  herself 
for  the  rudeness  with  which  she  first  met  my  prof 
fered  aid.  Poor  woman!  She  has  had  a  dreary 
probation,  and  no  wonder  her  heart  was  turning 
to  stone.  I  fear  there  are  but  too  many  of  the 
poor  hardening  under  their  trials,  as  she  was. 

*  Mr.  Trap's  fastidious  sense  of  propriety,  in  the  matter  specified 
above,  is  creditable  to  the  old  gentleman's  education,  and  reverential 
estimate  of  the  sex.  Still,  I  am  afraid  it  may  bring  him  under  ridicule, 
in  places  where  one  does  not  like  to  be  laughed  at,  and  from  persons 
who  were  never  embarrassed  by  such  decorous  habits  of  thinking. 
But  for  marring  Mr.  Trap's  MS.,  I  would  have  "  crossed  out"  all  these 
objectionable  allusions  —  I  almost  wish  I  had!  — [EDITOR  OF  TANGLE- 
TOWN  LETTERS.] 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  89 

The  sick  child  is  recovering,  and  shows  a  patient, 
amiable  spirit,  such  as  I  had  not  anticipated  in  one 
so  unfavorably  circumstanced.  Aurora — who  usu 
ally  accompanies  me  on  these  visits — has  already 
secured  a  place  in  the  poor  girl's  heart,  and  it  is 
quite  affecting  to  witness  their  growing  attachment. 

The  other  child — the  boy  whom  I  mentioned  as 
having  received  a  mental  injury — is  a  sad  spectacle. 
His  uniform  appearance  is  that  of  one  profoundly 
absorbed  in  reverie.  His  faculties  do  not  seem  so 
much  paralyzed  as  bent  inward.  Of  ordinary 
transactions  he  is  utterly  unconscious;  but  now 
and  then  a  tone,  a  face,  or  some  peculiar  household 
phenomenon,  brings  his  mind,  as  it  were,  to  the 
surface. 

I  observe  that  my  pet  always  succeeds  in  rousing 
him,  either  by  the  sound  of  her  voice,  or  by  the 
steady  light  of  her  brilliant  countenance,  bent  upon 
him  in  silent  pity. 

I  believe  I  have  already  mentioned  the  singular 
radiance — the  deep,  spiritual  vitality — that  marks 
Aurora's.features,  especially  her  eyes.  It  is  some 
thing  that  I  have  never  observed  in  any  other  child, 
and  in  but  one  other  person.  It  reminds  me,  O 
Frank!  so  vividly  of  ONE  who  shone  upon  my 
youth,  so  brightly  as  to  transfigure  all  my  nature-— 
so  transiently  as  to  leave  my  life  in  shadow  when 


90 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 


she  passed  away.  Of  one  who  rose  in  the  firma 
ment  of  consciousness  like  a  majestic  star,  radiated 
her  affluent  beauty  during  one  glorious  hour,  and 
then  retired  beneath  the  horizon,  disenchanting 
creation  as  she  fell!  When  I  look  upon  this  child, 
that  peerless  creature  seems  half  restored  to  me ; 
and  I  ignore,  for  an  instant,  the  still  deep  grief  of 
thirty  years.  I  watch,  with  an  interest  not  to  be 
described,  the  influence  of  my  pet  upon  this 
afflicted  boy.  There  is  nothing  stirs  his  oblivious 
nature  like  her  voice  and  look.  What  nameless 
power  is  it  which  she  exerts  so  unconsciously? 
What  state  is  that  whrch  responds  to  an  influence 
so  subtle?  And  what  will  be  the  issue  of  it  all? 

You  have  some  learning,  Frank ;  have  you  ever 
investigated  these  things? 


I  have  been  talking  with  my  guests  about  the 
Rachels,  and  about  Aurora. 

I  am  afraid  I  did  not  interest  them  much  in  the 
narrative  of  my  poor  proteges.  The  story,  however, 
drew  out  some  characteristic  remarks. 

Miss  Peeler  thought  the  scene  would  read  well, 
if  graphically  described  in  a  book. 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.         91 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch  gave  us  notice  that  snch 
cases  of  destitution,  affliction  and  desperation  will 
continue  to  meet  us  "thicker  and  blacker,"  until 
woman  shall  be  "elevated,"  and  the  "harmonic 
conjunction"  effected.  For  her  part,  she  did  not 
charge  herself  with  private  charities — she  could 
not  trouble  herself  with  the  trivial  affairs  of  indi 
viduals — but  she  aspired  to  emancipate  her  sex, 
and  was  willing  to  immolate  her  life  on  the  altar 
of  Humanity. 

Peskiewitch  thought  that  if  woman  could  be 
made  a  little  more  intellectual,  and  could  appreciate 
the  delights  of  literature,  as  some  illustrious  repre 
sentatives  of  the  sex  do — here  he  bowed  to  "the 
wonderful  female"  and  Miss  Peeler — they  would 
be  able  to  starve  and  slave,  to  chill  and  despair, 
with  a  great  deal  more  satisfaciion  than  at  present. 

Amelia  remarked  that  human  life  seemed  to  be 
full  of  pain  and  affliction,  at  best;  that,  if  one  does 
not  suffer  from  poverty,  or  sickness,  one  is  sure  to 
suffer  from  other  evils  that  are  quite  as  bad ;  and 
that  doubtless  there  are  many  women,  wealthy, 
lauded,  and  envied,  who  might  exchange  situations 
with  the  poorest,  and  gain  some  happiness  by  the 
bargain. 

As  Amelia  uttered  this  trite  sentiment,  the  con- 


92  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

trast  of  her  splendid  person,  and  high  social  posi 
tion,  with  the  bitter  earnestness  of  her  language, 
and  her  obvious  allusion  to  her  own  experience, 
was  melancholy  and  impressive. 

I  noticed  Chatterton — who  was  sitting  near 
her — bend  forward  and  whisper  to  her  as  she 
ceased. 

Her  face  and  neck  became  instantly  suffused, 
and  her  eyes  precipitately  sought  the  ground. 

I  never  saw  this  queenly  woman  appear  so  much 
like  a  bashful  girl  before. 


It  is  near  midnight.  I  have  sought  the  pen  to 
complete  this  letter  before  I  sleep.  There  is  some 
thing  more  I  would  fain  add.  Yet,  perhaps,  it 
were  better  left  unwritten.  I  am  an  old  man,  and 
my  impressions  may  mislead.  I  am  weary,  and  a 
little  agitated.  In  this  state,  one  does  not  reason 
clearly ;  and  he  has  no  right  to  disturb  others  with 
apprehensions,  which  he  can  not  entirely  justify  to 
himself. 

And  yet — I  will  write  but  this — I  would  that 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  93 

Amelia  had  never  met  Mrs.  Harrowscratch.  I 
would  that  she  had  married  wisely — that  her  heart 
were  anchored  fast  in  an  honest  love. 

Pray  for  her,  Frank,  pray  that  she  enter  not  into 
temptation ' 


94  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 


LETTER   ELEVENTH. 

-IN  WHICH  MR.  TRAP  GIVES  EVIDENCE  OF  NOT  BEING  POLITI 
CALLY  "  SOUND,"  AND  GIVES  ALSO  A  REPORT  OF  DR.  FIB- 
LONG' s  SERMON. 

I  HAVE  been  trying  to  interest  Amelia  in  Mrs. 
Rachel  and  her  children — I  have  been  trying  to 
attach  her  to  Aurora.  I  tremble  at  the  peril  she 
incurs,  with  no  lawful  object  to  love  and  labor  for. 
I  tremble  to  think  what  may  come  and  possess  her 
vacant  heart ! 

Yesterday  she  went  with  us  to  see  the  widow 
and  her  family.  She  went,  I  fear,  not  so  much  to 
minister  to  the  needy,  as  to  gratify  her  old  friend, 
Mr.  Trap.  No  doubt  she  meant  well,  and  would 
gladly  have  blessed  the  house  of  affliction  with 
timely  words  and  the  true  spirit  of  sympathy ;  but 
she  is  unaccustomed  to  such  offices,  and  wholly 
ignorant  of  that  peculiar  sensitiveness,  or  pride, 
which  many  of  the  poor  retain  through  all  their 
privations. 

Her    sympathetic    observations    seemed  to   be 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  95 

quoted,  verbatim,  from  some  grandiloquent  profes 
sor  of  philanthropy,  and  the  glitter  of  the  rhetoric 
was  more  obvious  than  the  heartiness  of  the  senti 
ment.  There  was  a  queenly  condescension  in  the 
demeanor  of  the  magnificent  woman,  which,  to 
state  the  exact  truth,  was  both  oppressive  and  irri 
tating.  It  had  the  absurd  effect  of  provoking  Mrs. 
Eachel  to  vault  into  a  corresponding  demeanor; 
and  she  acknowledged  the  compassion  of  her  gen 
teel  visitor  with  a  frigid  and  laborious  politeness 
that  made  me  admire  the  perennial  caprice  of  the 
old  man  Adam. 

When  we  were  coming  away,  Amelia  tendered 
her  purse  to  the  widow,  and  I  am  bound  to  say  that 
the  ridiculous  creature  declined  it  with  the  haughty 
air  of  a  ruined  princess.  I  question  whether 
Amelia  will  feel  any  more  interest  in  the  poor  on 
account  of  this  visit.  It  was  not  an  auspicious 
beginning. 


I  found  Herman  to-day  under  a  good  deal  of 
excitement.  He  is  something  of  a  politician,  in 
his  quiet  way,  and  reads  the  Congressional  debates 
with  astonishing  perseverance.  He  holds  views  on 
political  subjects  that  have  been  carefully  matured, 


96  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

and  that  admit  of  vigorous  defence.  He  lias  not 
gleaned  them  from  the  influential  newspapers,  nor 
taken  them  on  trust  from  the  lips  of  any  brawling 
demagogue ;  they  are  the  result  of  unbiased  rea 
soning —  the  judgment  of  his  calm  and  genial 
humanity.  Well,  Herman  was  a  good  deal  excited, 
as  I  said ;  it  was  in  consequence  of  a  recent  act  of 
legislation — the  Fugitive  Slave  Act,  I  think  it  is 
called. 

It  seems  by  this  Act,  that  every  man  in  the  Free 
States  is  made  a  minion  of  the  Slave  Power — a 
sort  of  sub-kidnapper— a  lackey  of  oppression  — 
(these  are  Herman's  phrases)  —  and  is  compelled, 
under  very  severe  penalties,  to  restore  the  flying 
slave  to  his  pampered  master — to  become  the  ally 
of  the  strong  against  the  weak. 

I  have  hitherto  stifled  all  reflections  on  the  sub 
ject  of  slavery,  not  having  sufficient  courage  to 
survey  the  whole  matter  deliberately,  and  being 
apprehensive,  moreover,  that  I  might  kindle  a 
train  of  thought  that  would  explode  in  noisy  fanat 
icism.  But  I  confess  I  find  it  more  and  more  diffi 
cult  to  ignore  the  subject.  It  absorbs  the  news 
papers.  It  monopolizes  the  public  attention.  It 
seems  to  loom  ominously  in  the  distance  of  our 
history.  Our  best  statesmen  look  at  it  askance, 


THE    TAXGLETOWN   LETTERS.  97 

or,  if  they  offer  to  meet  it,  are  borne  down  by  its 
weight. 

My  conversation  with  Herman  has  roused  my 
latent  feelings  on  the  subject.  I  begin  to  feel  that 
I  have  been  too  dormant,  hitherto — that  the  masses 
of  our  people,  North  and  South,  have  not  realized, 
as  they  ought,  the  determined  aggressions  of  the 
slaveholding  interest  in  this  land,  and  the  conse 
quent  peril  that  threatens  our  institutions,  or,  at 
least,  our  national  honor. 

I  hope  I  am  not  becoming  an, abolitionist — for 
I  have  been  accustomed  to  associate  with-  that 
name  some  rather  discreditable  qualities ;  but  I  am 
persuaded  that  it  is  the  duty  of  good  citizens  to 
resist  the  further  progress  of  the  Slave  Power. 

But  this  new  statute.  Is  it  my  duty  to  obey  it? 
It  is  said  to  be  constitutional.  It  is  claimed  that 
the  peace,  and  even  the  perpetuity  -of  the  nation, 
demanded  its  enactment.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? 

Herman  says,  that  for  his  part,  he  had  rather 
suffer  the  penalties  of  this  Act  than  execute  its 
requirements;  and  that  no  constitution  emanating 
from  man  shall  compel  him  to  transgress  the  dic 
tates  of  mercy  implanted  by  God  in  his  heart,  and 
constituting  the  best  of  his  being. 

I  trust  that  no  emergency  will  oblige  him  to 


98          THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

choose  between  this  law  of  man  and  the  eternal 
law  of  God;  for  Herman  has  the  spirit  out  of 
which  martyrs  are  made. 


It  is  Sunday  evening.  I  have  been  to  hear  Dr. 
Fiblong  preach  on  the  duty  of  obedience  to  the 
powers  that  be — in  other  words,  on  the  Christian 
obligation  of  executing  the  Fugitive  Slave  Act. 
Dr.  Fiblong  is  the  pastor  of  the  richest  church  in 
Tangletown ;  his  congregation  is  large,  fashionable, 
and  self-complacent.  I  presume  that,  if  they  sup 
posed  any  persons  less  genteel  than  themselves  are 
to  be  admitted  into  heaven,  it  would  prove  a  serious 
vexation  to  them.  Of  course,  they  consider  all 
that  part  of  the  Gospel  which  is  addressed  to  the 
poor,  to  the  sinful,  and  to  those  that  are  in  bonds, 
as  altogether  superfluous. 

Dr.  Fiblong  is  a  preacher  after  their  own  hearts. 
He  never  offends  their  prejudices.  He  never 
wounds  their  plethoric  pride  by  any  chance-thrust 
of  the  Gospel  sword.  He  never  forgets  what  his 
people  expect  of  him,  and  never  remembers  what 
the  Almighty  requires.  He  is  accounted  the  most 
successful  minister  in  Tangletown. 


THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.  99 

Well,  Dr.  Fiblong  preached  on  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Act.     He  admitted  that  some  of  its  requirements 
bore  rather  hard  upon  our  sensibilities,  and  might 
appear  hostile  to  our  sense  of  right;  but  then  it 
was  our  duty  to  sacrifice  these  for  the  sake  of  na 
tional  tranquillity.     He  spoke  in  the  most  pathetic 
strain  of  the  necessity  of  peace  between  the  North 
and  South.     "Behold,"  said  he,  "how  pleasant  a 
thing  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity !  " 
Slavery  might  be  wrong,  though  it  was  clearly 
countenanced  in  the  Bible — and  it  might  offend 
our  local  habits  and  peculiar  feelings  to  be  directly 
implicated  in  the  institution ;  but,  after  all,  it  is  a 
glorious  country,  and  we  are  a  noble  people ;  and 
should  we  not — WOULD  we  not  concede  something, 
for  the  sake  of  insuring  harmony  in  this  magnificent 
galaxy  of  states? 

At  this  appeal,  a  strong  emotion  pervaded  the 
audience.  Several  gentlemen,  who  are  known  to 
command  an  extensive  southern  trade,  bowed  their 
heads  in  tears. 

Herman,  who  sat  by  my  side,  said,  audibly, 
"  FIRST  PURE,  THEN  PEACEABLE,"  and  looked  darkly 
at  the  minister. 

Dr.  Fiblong  then  became  Scriptural ;  he  quoted 
the  case  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles,  as  proving  the 


100  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

righteousness  of  submission  to  the  existing  powers ; 
and  queried  whether  the  fact  that  some  men  are 
indisposed  to  execute  the  present  statute,  may  not 
be  an  indication  of  latent  infidelity ! 

And  finally,  the  discourse  was  finished  in  a  bril 
liant  peroration  on  the  necessity  of  imitating 
Christ ! 

An  expression  of  the  happiest  benignity  shone  in 
the  approving  countenances  of  most  of  the  congre 
gation;  but  Herman  and  I  came  away  in  rather  a 
turbulent  mood.  I  was  struck  by  a  remark  which 
Herman  made  as  we  were  leaving  the  church: 
"Had  Christ  and  the  Apostles,"  said  he,  " been  the 
pitiful  time-servers  this  preacher  represents  them 
to  have  been,  they  would  surely  have  had  no  occa 
sion  to  suffer  martyrdom ;  and  had  our  forefathers 
possessed  that  reverence  for  bad  laws  which  Dr. 
Fiblong  would  inculcate,  there  never  had  been  that 
admirable  transaction  known  in  history  as  the 
American  Revolution." 


THE   TANGLETOWIT  LETTERS*  101 


LETTER  TWELFTH. 

DESCRIBING  MR.  TRAP'S  FURTHER  TRIBULATION  WITH  MRS 
HARROWSCRATCH,  AND  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THAT  ADVEN 
TUROUS  FEMALE. 

MRS.  Harrowscratch  took  leave  of  us  to-day. 
May  Heaven  have  mercy  on  those  whom  she  may  be 
moved  to  visit  hereafter.  The  last  days  of  her  stay 
with  us  were  more  afflictive  than  the  first.  Miss 
Peeler  and  Amelia  having  departed  early  in  the 
week  —  leaving  the  gallant  reformer  without  a 
check — the  spirit  of  the  woman  blossomed  in 
luxuriant  impudence.  The  new  costume  was  not 
the  only  form  in  which  her  dauntless  independence 
exhibited  itself.  She  assumed  an  incredible  author 
ity  in  my  devoted  household.  I  heard  rumors  of 
tremendous  collisions  between  her  and  the  house 
keeper,  when  the  depredations  of  the  enemy  had 
become  especially  exasperating. 

As  regards  my  course  under  the  circumstances — 
being  a  man  of  discretion  rather  than  of  valor — I 
remained  pretty  much  in  retirement,  thinking  of 


1Q2  THE    TANOLETOWN    LETTERS. 

the  progress  of  the  age,  the  manifold  absurdities  of 
human  nature,  the  mission  of  woman,  the  harmonic 
conjunction,  and  the  asylum  for  the  insane! 

This  ignoble  inactivity  on  my  part,  enabled  the 
enemy  to  consummate  her  most  atrocious  pur 
pose —  she  lectured  in  Tangletown.  Peskiewitch 
became  the  intrepid  woman's  instrument.  He  it 
was  who  hired  the  most  fashionable  hall,  wrote  the 
audacious  advertisements,  and  saw  the  flaming  post 
ers  printed,  and  placarded  in  all  the  conspicuous 
places  in  the  city.  He  is  implicated  in  the  whole 
transaction,  from  the  advent  of  Mrs.  Harrowscratch 
into  Pineapple  street  to  the  moment  of  the  lec 
ture —  from  the  first  conception  of  the  outrage  to 
the  reception  of  the  last  shilling  paid  to  him  as 
doorkeeper.  Yes,  the  lecture  actually  took  place. 
I  heard  of  it  after  it  had  become  too  late  to  inter 
fere—except  by  authority  of  the  police— -and 
remained  in  my  chamber,  chafing  finely. 

The  lecture  was  attended  by  incidents  not  cal 
culated  to  foster  the  reformer's  audacity  —  as  I 
have  since  learned  by  confession  of  Peskiewitch. 

It  seems  that  the  boys,  who  comprised  a  large 
part  of  the  audience,  were  violent,  and  not  over- 
discriminating  in  their  applause  —  alternately  beat 
ing  the  floor  with  fury,  and  whistling  shrill  as 


Mrs.  Harrowscratch  requests  thab  the    "  impudent  fellow' 
may  "be  pub  oub.     P    103. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  103 

mountaineers.  Indeed,  this  kind  of  applause  occu 
pied  most  of  the  time,  leaving  but  a  narrow  margin 
of  opportunity  for  the  lecture.  The  audience  con 
siderately  spared  the  lungs,  and  economized  the 
mental  resources  of  the  speaker.  They  compli 
mented  the  latter  by  bestowing  on  a  single  sen 
tence  of  her  murky  wisdom  a  prolonged  salvo  of 
stunning  dissonance. 

At  this  embarrassing  rate  the  lecture  had  pro 
ceeded  for  half  an  hour,  when  an  amazing  consum 
mation  took  place. 

A  lank,  awkward,  destitute  youth  stole  timidly 
toward  the  speaker's  desk,  arid,  addressing  the  fair 
lecturer  in  a  strain  of  filial  entreaty,  begged  her  to 
come  home  !  It  must  have  been  the  rarest  specta 
cle  !  There  stood  the  poor  boy  in  the  full  splendor 
of  gas-light,  ragged,  travel-worn,  embarrassed,  dis 
consolate —  a  picture  of  pathos.  And  there  stood 
a  woman  whom  he  called  MOTHER — in  possession 
of  the  rostrum — arrayed  in  the  badge  of  reform  — 
disdaining  all  domestic  offices,  and  denying  all  do 
mestic  claims  —  absorbed  in  the  equivocal  work  of 
enfranchising  her  sex. 

Something  of  a  sensation  ensued,  as  I  learn  from 
Peskiewitch;  but  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  evinced  ad 
mirable  presence  of  mind.  She  ignored  the  rela- 


104  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

tionship  without  an  effort,  and  calmly  requested 
that  the  impudent  fellow  might  be  put  out.  But  the 
impudent  fellow  expostulated  with  such  powerful 
pathos,  that  many  of  the  audience  became  enlisted 
in  his  cause,  and  the  meeting  broke  up  amid  much 
excitement  and  confusion.  Attended  by  Peskie- 
witch,  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  returned  to  the  house 
in  high  resentment. 

The  event  happened  last  evening;  and  this 
morning  she  terminated  her  seven  weeks'  visit,  and 
went  her  way,  frowning  at  all  the  world. 

Peskiewdtch  says  that  the  poor  lad,  who  wan 
dered  so  strangely  into  the  lecture-room,  and  made 
himself  so  ridiculous,  went  home  with  a  sympa 
thizing  auditor,  protesting  that  he  was  really  the 
child  of  this  intrepid  woman  —  disown  him  as  she 
might. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  105 


LETTER    THIRTEENTH. 

AFFORDS  ANOTHER  GLIMPSE  OF  MR.  TRAPES  BENEFICENCE, 
AND  OF  HIS  POLITICAL  AFFINITIES ;  CLOSING  WITH  AN 
ALARM. 

AURORA  has  introduced  me  to  several  more  desti 
tute  persons,  whom  I  have  been  permitted  to  help 
and  encourage.  I  enjoy  the  whim  of  sending  my 
pet  to  seek  out  charitable  work,  and  making  her 
an  active  instrument  in  the  relief  of  the  poor.  The 
glorious  face  of  the  child,  her  gentleness  and  pity, 
qualify  her  for  this  ministry  in  an  especial  degree. 
Nor,  while  blessing  others,  will  she  remain  un 
blessed.  She  will  learn  the  means  and  opportuni 
ties  of  doing  good.  Her  best  instincts  will  be 
developed,  and  her  nature  imbued  with  Christian 
benevolence.  If  her  life  shall  be  prolonged  into 
womanhood,  she  will  grow  up  with  a  thoughtful, 
rational  interest  in  human  existence,  with  wise 
estimates  of  things,  with  mental  resources  and 
sound  social  sympathy;  and  thus  be  fortified 
against  the  perils  that  assail  the  selfish  and  the 
frivolous.  While  encountering  new  objects  of 


106  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

compassion,  we  do  not  forget  the  Rachels.  We 
have,  in  fact,  had  this  family  out  to  the  mansion 
to  dinner. 

The  occasion  proved  highly  agreeable  to  all  con 
cerned.  The  widow  narrated  all  her  misfortunes 
to  Mrs.  Peskiewitch,  and  won  the  housekeeper's 
heart.  The  girls — Aurora  and  Miss  Rachel — had 
a  notable  visit,  which  resulted  in  an  arrangement 
for  the  latter  to  attend  school — a  privilege  hitherto 
denied  her  by  poverty  and  sickness.  The  uncon 
scious  boy  made  a  sketch  of  my  pet  in  charcoal,  by 
which  he  both  proved  himself  an  artist  and  gave 
infinite  delight  to  the  juvenile  Peskiewitches. 
These  latter  demeaned  themselves  with  unexam 
pled  propriety  on  the  occasion  —  a  fact  that  recon 
ciles  me  to  some  recent  acts  of  depredation,  by 
which  my  slippers  and  spectacle-case  have  myste 
riously  disappeared. 


We  are  likely  to  have  trouble  in  our  church 
on  the  slavery  question.  The  enactment  of  this 
Fugitive  Slave  Bill  has  powerfully  excited  the 
community,  and  intensified  the  various  opinions 


TIIE    TANGLETOWN    LETTEES.  107 

cherished  on  the  subject  of  Slavery  in  the  abstract. 
Dissension  runs  high  and  waxes  warm.  Hostile 
views  come  into  fierce  collision,  and  men's  passions 
even  exaggerate  the  real  occasions  of  difference. 

Our  minister  has  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to 
preach  a  sermon  in  reference  to  the  new  Bill.  I 
rather  think  that  Dr.  Fiblong  drew  him  out.  At 
all  events,  it  was  a  very  different  discourse  from 
that  delivered  by  the  popular  preacher.  It  was  a 
plain,  firm  application  of  the  Christian  Law — of 
the  Golden  Rule — to  American  Slavery.  I  con 
fess,  it  impressed  me  most  powerfully.  I  never 
had  such  an  insight  before  into  the  monstrous  in 
justice  of  the  system.  I  came  out  of  the  church 
a  thorough  anti-slavery  man. 

There  are  those  in  the  church,  however,  who 
not  only  dissent  from  the  minister's  views,  but 
who  deny  his  right  to  declare  them.  They  have 
resented  the  sermon  as  an  attempt  to  dictate  to 
them  political  doctrine.  They  have  created  quite 
an  opposition  to  the  poor  minister,  already,  and  I 
am  much  concerned  for  the  result.  I  fear  that  he 
may  suffer  for  his  boldness  and  fidelity;  still,  I  am 
glad  that  he  has  spoken  his  convictions. 


108  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

I  close  this  letter  amid  the  most  fearful  forebod 
ings.  Belshazzar  has  just  arrived,  hot  with  travel 
and  jealousy.  He  is  in  pursuit  of  Amelia.  Had 
he  found  her  here,  I  believe  he  would  have  mur 
dered  her.  He  is  mad  with  passion,  and  moves 
through  the  house  like  a  wild  beast.  If  he  meets 
Chatterton,  what  will  be  the  result !  O  Frank,  I 
feel  as  if  some  dreadful  tragedy  impended. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  109 


LETTER    FOURTEENTH. 

DESCRIBING    MR.  TRAp's    MISERABLE    JOURNEY  WITH    BELSHAZ- 
ZAR,  AND  AN  ALARMING  INCIDENT  BY  THE  WAY. 

IT  has  been  an  exciting  day.  This  morning,  at 
half  past  four,  I  left  Tangletown  in  company  with 
Belshazzar.  He  was  not  to  be  detained  any  longer. 
He  would  hear  reason  no  more  than  will  a  wild 
beast.  He  was  fiercely  bent  on  finding  Amelia, 
and  tasting  revenge.  All  night  long,  the  dark, 
malignant  heathen  never  closed  his  eyes,  but  waited 
with  lowery  impatience,  and  muttered  curses,  the 
hour  that  was  to  bring  the  early  train. 

I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  this  mad  monster 
proceeding  on  his  revengeful  errand  alone.  I 
offered  to  bear  him  company,  hoping,  thereby,  to 
avert  the  fatal  consequences  to  which  his  passion 
was  hurrying  him.  He  bluntly  declined  the  honor. 
But  this  only  determined  me  in  my  resolution ;  and 
after  half  an  hour  spent  in  sultry  debate,  he  yielded 
a  grim  consent.  But  such  a  companion !  He  has 
demeaned  himself  through  the  day,  more  like  a 
hungry  wolf  than  a  rational  being. 


110  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

Let  me  assure  you  here,  before  I  write  another 
sentence,  that  I  do  not  believe  aught  of  Amelia 
that  can  justify  this  fury  and  hate  on  Belshazzar's 
part. 

I  know  not  what  he  may  have  heard,  or  from 
whom — he  keeps  his  own  counsel,  as  regards  these 
particulars — but  I  can  not  think  that  my  friend 
has  visibly  fallen  from  the  dignity  of  her  wifehood, 
or  falsified,  by  any  act  of  conventional  impropriety, 
her  fatal  promise  of  conjugal  fidelity.  I  s&y  fatal 
promise,  for  it  was  made  in  violation  of  nature, 
and  in  affront  of  God ;  and  it  augured  speedy  re 
pentance,  lingering  retribution,  and  final  calamity. 
From  the  beginning,  I  foreboded  the  evil  day  now 
about  to  be  fulfilled.  Still,  I  repeat  it,  I  believe 
Amelia  is  innocent  of  aught  for  which  society 
could  reproach  her;  for  I  know  the  natural  noble 
ness  of  her  nature ;  and,  with  all  her  peril,  I  confide 
in  it. 

Amelia  and  her  party  were,  when  last  heard 

from,  at  P .  This  romantic  village  has  become 

a  place  of  considerable  interest  to  tourists  and 
people  of  fashion,  owing  to  its  bold  mountain 
scenery,  the  Falls  of  the  Genesee,  a  recent  exca 
vation  through  one  of  the  hills,  where  a  canal  was 
to  have  been  carried,  and,  perhaps,  as  much  as 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  Ill 

any  thing,  to  the  comparative  novelty  of  the  place. 
A  fine  railroad  now  facilitates  communication  with 
the  village,  and  a  hotel  of  some  pretension  has  been 
erected  for  the  accommodation  of  visitors. 

The  immediate  direction  of  our  journey,  there 
fore,  was  toward  P .  It  was  raining  furiously 

when  we  took  the  cars,  and  the  complexion  of  the 
heavens — darkened  by  dense  and  pitchy  vapor — 
suited  well  the  ominous  errand  on  wThich  we  trav 
eled.  Belshazzar  proved  himself  in  no  companion 
able  mood.  I  could  neither  reason  with  him  on 
the  subject  of  his  vehement  passion,  or  engage  him 
in  any  topic  of  passing  interest.  He  sat  silent  and 
dark,  muffled  in  his  cloak  to  the  eyes,  and  bending 
on  the  mottled  landscape  a  look  of  rigid  malignity. 

It  did  not  occur  to  me,  when  I  took  my  seat  in 
the  train,  that  we  were  to  pass  Collmore  Hill ;  and 
it  was  not  until  a  certain  familiarity  of  scenery  had 
arrested  my  attention,  that  I  realized  where  I  was 
being  conveyed.  In  an  instant,  as  we  swept  round- 
the  curve  of  the  road,  the  venerable  old  mansion 
rose  into  view,  crowning  that  noble  elevation  with 
its  time-worn  walls,  and  sentineled  by  the  same 
majestic  trees  under  whose  shadow  I  played  more 
than  forty  years  ago.  What  associations  are  con 
nected  with  that  place  !  What  scenes  and  experi- 


112  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

ences  memory  recalled  as  its  image  greeted  my 
sight ! 

Within  those  gray  old  walls  I  first  breathed  the 
air  and  saw  the  light  of  this  unresting  world. 
There  my  boyhood  was  spent.  Yonder  are  the 
fields  in  which  I  played  and  toiled,  blithe  and  hale 
with  the  exuberance  of  new  life.  There  in  the 
valley  was  the  rustic  school,  whose  privileges  I  as 
often  slighted  as  shared  —  a  thing  to  smile  over  and 
regret.  Further  still,  I  see  the  spire  of  the  old 
church,  where  sermons  were  long  and  theology  was 
grim — where  the  deacons  slept  in  the  assurance 
of  sound  doctrine,  and  the  children  waited  for  the 
amen  as  prisoners  wait  for  their  release.  Sad  old 
tabernacle  of  Error  and  Fanaticism !  I  have  little 
cause  to  rejoice  in  its  ministry  to  me  and  mine! 

I  stepped  out  upon  the  platform,  and  transgressed 
the  rules  for  the  sake  of  a  long  look  at  the  dear 
old  place.  There  I  was  to  have  spent  my  life  in 
quiet  rural  pursuits,  blessed  and  attended  by  the 
love  and  beauty  of  my  unforgotten  wife,  and  ripen 
ing  for  the  better  world  in  the  genial  sunshine  of  a 
virtuous  home.  Those  rooms  have  been  illumined 
and  consecrated  by  her  presence :  without  her  they 
must  be  to  me  forever  dim  and  cold. 

My   eye    lingers    upon    that    narrow   inclosure 


THE   TANGLETOWN  "LETTERS.  113 

yonder  at  the  left — just  where  the  line  of  foliage 
unites  itself  to  those  graceful  elms.  I  see  the 
white  stone  gleaming  through  the  leaves.  I  see 
the  face  th.at  we  entombed  beneath — no,  the  face 
that  shines  upon  me  evermore  out  of  heaven.  So 
be  it,  0  inscrutable  God! 


I  was  roused  from  my  reverie  by  the  stopping 

of  the  train  at  C .      Among   the  passengers 

who  came  on  board  at  this  station,  was  a  young 
man  whom  I  instantly  presumed  to  be  Chatterton. 
I  could  obtain  only  a  side  view  of  his  countenance, 
as  he  passed  from  the  platform  into  the  adjacent 
car ;  but  the  likeness  seemed  alarmingly  accurate. 
Nor  was  I  alone  of  that  impression.  Glancing 
with  instant  apprehension  at  the  face  of  Belshaz- 
zar,  I  saw  that  his  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  spot 
where  the  young  man  had  stood;  while  a  lurid 
gleam  of  savagery  shone  from  beneath  his  dark 
and  ugly  browrs — like  lightning  shimmering  from 
a  cloud — and  giving  to  the  whole  physiognomy 
an  expression  of  intense  malignity  such  as  one 
shudders  to  behold. 


114  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

Belsliazzar  carried  a  heavy  dirk-cane.  Scarcely 
was  the  train  again  in  motion,  when  he  arose,  and 
grasping  this  weapon  significantly,  strode  into  the 
next  car.  I  was  not  three  steps  behind  him,  for, 
at  that  instant,  I  felt  as  though  I  might  be  called 
to  avert  a  murder.  All  sorts  of  sanguinary  images 
darted  through  my  mind  in  a  moment.  A  dozen 
half-formed  suggestions  whirled  across  my  brain. 
Probably  my  countenance  exhibited  some  alarm, 
for  I  remember  that  my  appearance  instantly  fixed 
the  attention  of  all  who  saw  me. 

The  young  man  who  had  unconsciously  occa 
sioned  this  scene,  sat  at  the  further  extremity  of 
the  car.  Belsliazzar  approached  him  —  looked 
hard  into  his  face  —  and  slowly  turned  back,  with 
the  air  of  a  hyena  balked  of  his  prey.  It  was 
not  Chatterton,  after  all. 

I  sunk  into  the  nearest  seat,  and  it  w^as  a  long 
hour  before  I  recovered.  I  heard  the  passengers 
making  their  comments,  arid  was  honored  with 
many  a  curious  glance.  As  for  the  stranger,  lie 
showed  a  momentary  indignation,  but  left  the  train 
at  the  next  station,  and  -we  saw  no  more  of  him. 

This  incident  impressed  me  with  the  necessity 
of  preventing  a  meeting  between  Belshazzar  and 
Chatterton,  if  possible,  until  the  innocence  of  the 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  115 

latter  should  be  established,  or  the  fury  of  the 
former  exhausted.  To  devise  means  of  averting 
this  perilous  collision  occupied  all  my  thoughts 
until  we  arrived  at  H . 

Here  the  Tangletown  and  Bunkum  Railroad 
forms  a  junction  with  the  Patch  and  Scrabble 
line,  running  westward  from  the  city  through 

P to  the  Lakes.  At  this  point,  therefore, 

it  became  necessary  to  change  cars;  but  as  the 
train  that  was  to  carry  us  forward  had  not  yet 
arrived,  we  took  seats  in  the  station  to  wait 
its  appearance.  The  rain  still  continued  to  pour; 
the  ticket-master  closed  his  window;  the  apple 
boys  retired;  and  we  were  left  sole  occupants 
of  the  building.  It  was  a  dismal  day,  aside  from 
the  gloom  it  derived  from  my  own  sombre  mood. 

Belshazzar  bore  the  protracted  delay  with  aston 
ishing  patience.  He  coiled  himself  in  his  cloak, 
and  appeared  to  lapse  into  slumber.  Having  fixed 
his  vindictive  purpose,  he  could  now,  as  it  seemed, 
await  the  hour  of  its  execution  as  he  would  the 
maturing  of  a  bond.  This  brutish  insensibility 
aggravated  and  alarmed  me  more  than  his  previous 
violence. 


116  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

Two  hours  passed  away,  and  still  there  were  no 
signs  of  the  train.  Several  gentlemen  had  come  in 
by  this  time,  equipped  for  travel  and  impatient  of 
delay.  Two  of  these  soon  entered  into  conver 
sation,  by  which  I  immediately  learned  that  Mrs. 
Harrowscratch  had  been  lecturing  in  the  village. 
I  was  glad  to  find  that  neither  of  the  gentlemen 
was  likely  to  become  a  disciple  of  this  question 
able  reformer ;  but  one  of  them  at  length  made  a 
casual  remark  that  agitated  me  exceedingly. 

"By  the  way,"  said  he,  "  if  some  of  our  fashion 
able  women  were  to  openly  avow  their  adoption  of 
this  new  philosophy,  it  would  set  the  community 
at  rest  in  reference  to  much  that  is  equivocal  in 
their  customs  and  deportment.  I  saw  only  last 
week  at  N ,  a  battalion  or  so  of  gay  New-York 
ers —  married  women,  whose  husbands  are  locked 
up  in  Wall  street,  or  some  other  dungeon  of  Mam 
mon — flirting  it  with  an  equal  number  of  idle  young 
men  not  married,  and  that  with  such  hearty  good 
will,  that  one  could  scarcely  regard  the  wrhole 
transaction  as  a  sham." 

"  Ah,  that  was  said  in  the  true  tone  of  Juvenal," 
returned  the  other  with  a  laugh.  "  What  a  bless 
ing  it  is  that  we  poor  dogs  —  whose  poverty  saves 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  117 

us  from  the  follies  of  the  rich  —  may  avenge  our 
selves  by  saying  all  manner  of  caustic  truths  at 
their  expense." 

During  these  remarks  Belshazzar  still  remained 
coiled  in  his  cloak,  and  I  was  beginning  to  congrat 
ulate  myself  on  the  probability  that  he  had  not 
heard  them,  when  he  bounded  up,  darted  a  savage 
glance  at  me,  and  began  to  pace  the  room,  evidently 
under  the  impulse  of  the  fiercest  passion. 

About  that  moment  some  one  reported  that  the 

rain  had  so  swollen  the  river  at  E as  to  carry 

away  the  bridge;  in  consequence  of  which,  no 
train  need  be  expected  from  below  under  twelve 
hours. 

This  news  brought  an  exclamation  from  Belshaz 
zar  that  I  will  not  commit  to  paper.  It  proved 
that  his  endurance  was  exhausted.  And,  indeed, 
he  instantly  declared  his  determination  to  drive  to 
P this  very  night. 

The  distance  is  forty  miles.  No  conveyance  can 
be  had  until  six  o'clock.  The  rain  still  falls  in 
torrents.  It  is  reported  that  some  portions  of  the 
road  have  been  rendered  impassable  by  the  over 
flow  of  the  streams.  At  first  I  thought  I  would 
consult  my  own  safety,  and  leave  this  madman  to 


118  THE    TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

pursue  his  fate  alone.  But  on  further  reflection, 
and,  as  I  fancy,  to  his  chagrin,  I  am  resolved  to 
bear  him  company  on  this  miserable  night-ride. 
Perhaps  I  may  still  stand  between  him  and  crime. 
If  no  accident  befalls  me,  I  hope  to  inform  you  of 
the  issue  of  this  adventure  in  a  few  days. 


THE    TANGLLTOWN    LETTERS.  119 


LETTER  FIFTEENTH. 

DESCRIBING  THE  NIGHT  DRIVE,  A  NERVOUS  CONVERSATION, 
AND  THE  FRIGHTFUL  DISCOVERY  MADE  ON  THAT  EXCITING 
OCCASION. 

I  RESUME  my  narrative  at  the  moment  of  our  de 
parture  from  the  Station  at  H .  Belshazzar 

had  secured  a  tolerably  comfortable  carriage,  a  fleet 
horse,  and  an  experienced  driver.  But  the  pros 
pect  for  the  night  was  sufficiently  dubious. 

It  was  half  past  six  before  we  took  the  road. 
The  storm,  far  from  having  abated,  rather  seemed 
to  increase  as  the  day  waned.  The  dense,  copious 
clouds  seemed  to  touch  the  housetops,  as  they  dis 
charged  their  inexhaustible  stores.  Now  and  then 
came  a  fierce,  sudden  blast  of  wind,  that  dashed 
the  rain  upon  us  like  a  volley  of  shot.  The  gutters 
ran  full  to  the  brim,  and  were  already  sweeping 
across  the  highway  here  and  there ;  while,  foaming 
through  the  valley,  only  a  few  rods  to  our  left, 
rolled  the  river,  turbid  and  angry,  like  a  thing  of 
consciousness  and  passion. 

In  less  than  an  hour  we  entered  upon  a  lonely 


I 

120  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

turnpike,  hedged  upon  either  side  for  two  miles,  by 
a  pine  forest.  Here  we  took  leave  of  daylight; 
and  when  the  momentary  twilight  had  faded,  we 
were  in  Egyptian  darkness.  The  tall  pines  writhed 
in  the  storm,  and  moaned  over  our  heads  in  the 
boundless  gloom,  with  an  intonation  thrillingly 
human. 

As  I  rode  there — gazing  into  the  stifling  gloom, 
hearing  the  conflict  of  the  elements,  thinking  of 
the  desperate  man  at  my  side,  and  of  the  vengeful 
errand  on  which  he  was  hastening — I  was  in  the 
very  mood  most  susceptible  to  superstitious  impres 
sions,  and  had  much  of  the  choice  material  out  of 
which  terrific  illusions  are  formed. 

I  recalled  the  fact,  that,  more  than  twenty  years 
before,  over  the  same  lonely  road,  a  rich  man  had 
journeyed  late  at  night,  with  his  mortal  enemy 
noiselessly  dogging  his  steps,  and  preparing  to  send 
him  into  eternity  in  the  flash  of  his  deadly  rifle. 
The  rich  man  was  a  merciless  creditor,  loving  gain 
more  than  honor;  and  a  series  of  extortions  and 
wrongs  had  provoked  a  fellow-man  to  seek  revenge 
in  this  foul  deed.  With  this  bloody  purpose,  in 
the  blackness  of  night,  when  not  even  a  star  shone 
upon  the  tops  of  the  pines,  he  hung  upon  the  track 
of  his  victim,  vainly  trying  to  nerve  himself  to  the 


THE   TANGLETOWX    LETTERS.  121 

act.  Meanwhile,  all  unconscious  of  danger,  and 
chuckling  over  the  profits  of  his  latest  financial 
snare,  the  man  of  money  rode  on  the  verge  of  doom. 
Providence  softened  the  avenger's  heart,  and  gave 
th<)  rich  man  another  day  on  earth.  It  availed  no 
thing.  They  met  on  the  morrow ;  and  additional 
wrong  inspired  another  vindictive  vow.  The  fol 
lowing  night  the  extortioner  perished — not  here 
under  the  pines — but  on  his  own  threshold,  shot 
through  the  heart. 

I  rehearsed  the  tale  to  Belshazzar,  hoping  that 
the  horror  of  it  might  penetrate  his  obdurate  sensi 
bilities,  and  show  him  the  true  complexion  of  his 
own  revengeful  heart. 

I  dwelt  with  especial  emphasis  on  the  probable 
reflections  that  rose  in  the  murderer's  mind,  as  he 
approached  the  crisis  of  his  crime;  as  he  followed 
his  unsuspecting  victim  through  the  dark,  and  num 
bered  his  mortal  moments  by  his  own  rapid  heart 
beats.  He  thought  of  the  extortioner's  family;  of 
their  consternation,  horror,  and  dismay,  when  this 
bloody  bereavement  should  burst  upon  them,  start 
ling  them  from  sleep  and  household  dreams.  He 
thought  of  his  own  wife  and  babe — with  what 
averted  face  he  should  steal  home  to  them ;  with 
what  rankling  unrest,  start  at  every  sound ;  with 


122  THE    TANGLETOWX    LETTERS. 

what  utter  self-loathing,  shrink  from  their  innocent 
caresses.  He  thought  of  the  tumultuous  excite 
ment  of  the  community;  of  the  search  that  would 
be  made  for  the  criminal ;  of  his  own  possible  ap 
prehension  and  arraignment ;  of  the  crowded  court 
room;  of  the  silent,  immitigable  prison;  of  the 
scaffold,  where  all  the  rigor  of  human  justice  is 
concentrated  in  a  rope  more  dreadful  than  ten 
thousand  charging  spears.  He  thought  of  God,  in 
his  dread  omniscience,  in  his  still,  resistless  retribu 
tions;  and  a  voice  from  the  forest  and  the  cloud 
seemed  to  repeat  that  solemn  prohibition  —  THOU 

SHALT  DO  NO  MURDER  ! 

Thus  I  moralized,  uncertain  whether  Belshazzar 
listened  to  me  or  not,  until,  in  a  voice  that  seemed 
slightly  agitated,  he  inquired  whether  the  man  I 
had  spoken  of  was  really  hung. 

"He  was  hung,"  I  answered;  "when  we  return 
I  will  show  you  the  very  place  where  they  erected 
his  gibbet." 

"I  do  not  care  to  see  it,"  replied  Belshazzar;  "  it 
is  a  shocking  story  to  hear  in  such  a  place." 

I  saw  that  I  had  made  some  impression,  and  I 
determined  to  pursue  the  advantage.  I  had  found 
out  the  vulnerable  part  of  this  man's  nature. 

"  The  most  remarkable  part  of  this  story  remains 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  123 

to  be  told,"  I  observed.  "  After  the  murderer  had 
been  taken  down  from  the  gallows  and  buried,  cer 
tain  medical  students  went  at  midnight  and  dug 
him  up,  and  bore  him  to  their  room  for  dissection. 
"When  stretched  upon  the  table  for  examination,  it 
struck  the  students  that  the  corpse  was  remark  ably 
well  preserved.  Are  you  listening  to  me,  Belshaz- 
zar?" 

A  growling  affirmative  was  returned,  and  I  con 
tinued  : — 

"While  the  students  were  speculating  on  the 
unwonted  appearance  of  the  corpse,  it  suddenly 
opened  its  eyes,  and,  gazing  about  the  room,  asked 
them  to  put  out  the  candles  and  call  in  Clinch ; 
which  wras  the  name  of  the  man  that  had  been 
murdered !  The  terrified  students  bolted  from  the 
room,  nor  had  either  of  them  courage  to  return  that 
night.  In  the  morning,  the  dead  man  was  nowhere 
to  be  found!" 

Belshazzar  made  no  reply  under  several  minutes. 
At  length  he  demanded  whether  I  believed  stories 
of  this  extraordinary  character. 

"  I  do  not  believe  the  alleged  occurrences,"  said 
I,  "but  I  do  believe  this :  that  whenever  a  bad  pur 
pose  is  conceived  in  the  heart,  it  so  perverts  the 
mental  consciousness  as  to  make  the  individual  the 


124  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

victim  of  perpetual  illusions.  His  judgment  does 
not  act  with  its  ordinary  acuteness  —  he  commits 
fatal  blunders  in  calculating  his  own  escape  from 
the  meshes  of  his  crime ;  and  Nature,  becoming  his 
enemy,  practices  a  thousand  deceits  upon  his  senses, 
which,  in  that  mood,  allow  them  all  the  force  of 
reality." 

"Still,"  I  added,  by  way  of  second  thought,  "the 
supernatural  world  surrounds  us,  and  it  is  just  pos 
sible  that  the  conception  of  crime,  by  forcing  the 
soul  out  of  its  normal  state,  may  actually  render  it 
susceptible  of  spectacles  mercifully  hidden  from 
the  innocent." 

"I  can  make  nothing  of  your  philosophy,"  said 
Belshazzar,  "but  your  story  is  diabolically  disturb 
ing,  and  may  Old  Harry  take  you  before  you  are 
moved  to  talk  any  more  on  these  matters." 

"I  advise  you  not  to  express  any  special  desire 
for  that  person's  presence,"  returned  I,  "for  on  such 
a  night  as  this,  he  is  quite  liable  to  be  within  ear 
shot;  and,  in  case  he  calls  at  our  carriage  for  a 
companion,  you  must  needs  accompany  him,  for, 
being  myself  a  total  stranger  to  him,  he  would 
never  think  of  taking  me  by  the  button  for  a 
confidential  chat." 

"Mr.  Trap,"  said   Belshazzar,  with  an  obvious 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  125 

change  in  his  voice,  "  you  have  taken  an  unaccount 
able  humor  during  this  ride;  I  think  I  never  ob 
served  this  supernatural  twang  in  your  language 
before.  What  is  this?  " 

The  carriage  had  stopped.  The  horse  was  flounc 
ing  upon  the  edge  of  a  bridge.  The  river  foamed 
right  under  our  feet.  The  rain,  dashed  by  the 
angry  wind,  drove  into  our  faces,  threatening  to 
take  our  breath. 

The  only  thing  that  could  be  distinctly  under 
stood  was  the  lusty  profanity  of  the  driver. 

"For  God's  sake,"  cried  Belshazzar,  seizing 
Jehu  by  the  collar,  "have  done  with  that  brutal 
swearing.  Do  you  think  any  body  but  an  atheist 
or  a  devil  can  bear  blasphemy  on  such  a  night  as 
this?" 

"  The  horse  won't  go  on  the  bridge,"  was  Jehu's 
retort. 

"  Perhaps  some  of  the  planks  are  washed  away," 
suggested  I. 

The  driver  got  down,  that  he  might  examine 
more  closely  into  matters ;  and,  at  the  same  instant, 
the  horse  ran  back  with  a  loud  snort,  and  nearly 
overturned  the  carriage. 

"Something  is  on  the  bridge,"  cried  the  driver, 
as  he  took  the  frightened  animal  by  the  bit. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

"What  is  it  like?"  asked  Belshazzar.  in  an 
unmistakable  tone  of  fear. 

"I  can't  see  plain  what  it's  like,"  returned  the 
driver,  "but  it  seems  the  color  of  an  old  bone,  and 
has  two  heads  and  three  legs !  " 

"My  God!"   exclaimed  Belshazzar,  whose  con 
sternation  was  now  irrepressible,  "  did  you  ever 
hear  of  this  monster  before,  Mr.  Trap?" 

"I  certainly  never  did;  it  does  not  answer  to 
the  common  description  of  Old  Harry,"  returned  I. 

"I  have  a  pistol  with  me,"  observed  Jehu;  "I 
got  it  two  years  ago,  to  defend  myself  from  the 
Irish.  If  you  think  best,  I  will  have  a  shot  at  the 
thing." 

"Not  for  the  price  of  our  lives,"  ejaculated  Bel 
shazzar;  "get  to  your  place,  and  drive  us  from  the 
accursed  spot." 

By  this  time,  I  felt  that  I  might  take  liberties 
with  this  superstitious  heathen.  I  interposed, 
therefore,  saying,  in  a  voice  audible  only  to  him, 

"We  turn  not  back,  Belshazzar;  you  have  pur 
posed  a  great  crime;  are  you  such  a  fool  as  to 
fancy  that  the  devil  will  stand  in  your  way  while 
you  are  serving  him  so  zealously?  Hurry  on  to 
your  doom!" 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  127 

This  I  said  fearlessly,  for  I  felt  that  I  had 
acquired  a  moral  mastery  over  the  man. 

Peering  out  into  the  darkness,  I  noticed,  at  no 
great  distance,  a  light  glimmering  through  the 
storm. 

At  my  suggestion,  thither  went  our  Jehu  in 
quest  of  a  lantern,  by  which  I  hoped  to  inves 
tigate  the  nature  of  the  obstacle  thus  singularly 
obtruding  itself  in  our  way. 

My  Israelite  sat  speechless;  the  storm  raved 
about  our  heads;  the  river  foamed  beneath  our 
feet ;  the  distant  light  twinkled  across  the  waste ; 
and  I  sat  ruminating  on  the  strangeness  of  the 
situation,  and  the  singular  authority  I  had  obtained 
over  my  late  dangerous  companion. 


At  length  Jehu  came  back,  bearing  a  lantern, 
and  accompanied  by  another  person.  The  two, 
after  having  gone  out  upon  the  bridge,  presently 


128  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS 

stood  beside  the  carriage,  the  light  shining  fitfully 
over  their  affrighted  faces. 

"  In  God's  name,  what  is  it?  "  gasped  Belshazzar. 

"There  is  a  dead  man  on  the  bridge,"  answered 
the  driver. 

"An  old  man,  he  is,  and  murdered,  sure,"  added 
the  native. 

I  now  got  down  from  the  carriage,  and  soon 
verified  this  startling  information. 

A  pistol  ball  had  passed  through  the  brain  of  the 
dead  man.  The  deed  seemed  to  have  been  com 
mitted  further  up  the  river,  for  the  body  had  floated 
down  the  stream  upon  a  mass  of  driftwood,  which, 
coming  in  contact  with  the  bridge,  had,  in  the  ex 
traordinary  height  of  the  waters,  gradually  cast  its 
human  burden  sheer  over  upon  the  planks. 

There  it  lay,  amid  multiform  rubbish,  a  ghastly 
and  harrowing  sight. 

According  to  the  native,  there  was  a  tavern 
about  a  mile  further  on,  and  I  told  Belshazzar  that 
we  must  take  the  body  into  our  carriage  and  con 
vey  it  thither. 

At  first  he  would  not  entertain  the  idea;  but 
when  I  'whispered  to  him  that  I  had  recognized 
in  the  murdered  person,  old  Minos — the  father 


Jehu  discovers  the  murdered  man.      P.  129. 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  129 

of  our  Amelia — a  sort  of  horror  came  over  him, 
a  violent  tremor  convulsed  his  frame,  and  he  made 
no  further  opposition  to  my  wishes. 

— I  am  here  interrupted,  but  will  try  to  inform 
you  of  the  ensuing  events  as  leisure  is  afforded 
me. 

6* 


130  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 


LETTER   SIXTEENTH. 

DESCRIBING    HOW    THEY    ARRIVED  AT    THE    TAVERN,  AND    HOW 
MR.    TRAP    WAS     INDUCED  TO    JOIN    A    CIRCLE    OF    RAPPING 

SPIRITUALISTS ALSO      HOW     HE      MET      AN     INESTIMABLE 

ACQUAINTANCE. 

WHEN  we  arrived  that  night  at  the  tavern,  like 
undertakers,  with  the  murdered  body  of  old  Minos, 
it  must  have  been  very  late ;  for  not  a  ray  of  light 
was  visible  about  the  place,  and  not  a  sound  came 
to  the  ear  save  the  raving  of  the  storm. 

The  house  had  no  very  hospitable  look ;  but, 
nevertheless,  the  sign  that  swung  over  head  creaked 
out  a  sort  of  dubious  welcome,  and  our  Jehu  began 
a  furious  knocking  at  the  door. 

The  landlord  was  evidently  a  sound  sleeper,  and 
one  who  enjoyed  sleeping  out  the  equinoctial  gale. 
Nobody  stirred  to  answer  our  summons.  Jehu 
beat  the  door,  first  with  both  his  fists,  then  with  a 
heavy  whip  he  bore,  and  lastly  with  both  his  feet. 
These  urgent  notices  bringing  no  response  from 
within,  he  next  roared  like  a  goaded  bull.  After 
all,  it  was  hard  for  the  poor  fellow  to  out-clamor 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  131 

the  storm  —  especially  as  two  or  three  blinds  were 
swinging  in  the  gale,  and  beating  themselves  to 
pieces  against  the  \vindows. 

Belshazzar,  who  had  not  spoken  for  the  last  half 
hour,  wras  affected  by  all  this  noise  as  one  is  by  the 
knocking  in  Macbeth,  and  no  doubt  ruminated  fear 
fully  upon  the  sudden  extinction  of  old  Minos. 

At  length  Jehu,  groping  to  the  rear  of  the  build 
ing,  reported  that  a  light  was  visible  on  that  side, 
and  that  quite  a  large  number  of  persons  seemed 
to  be  assembled  in  an  upper  room. 

Renewing  his  clamor  on  this  side  of  the  house, 
he  finally  made  himself  heard,  and  one  of  the  noc 
turnal  company — raising  a  window,  and  putting 
forth  a  head  garnished  with  an  enormous  beard  — 
demanded  who  was  there  and  what  was  wanted. 
A  short  colloquy  now  served  to  explain  matters ; 
and  after  waiting  some  five  minutes  longer,  a  lamp 
glimmered  in  the  bar-room,  and  a  door  was  flung 
open  for  our  admittance. 

The  landlord  was  a  red-haired,  liquid-eyed  look 
ing  fellow,  quite  under  the  common  size.  There 
was  a  certain  unsteadiness  in  his  gait — occasioned, 
apparently,  by  lameness,  and  by  an  over  free  indul 
gence  at  his  bar. 

When  Belshazzar's  chalky  face  appeared  within 


132  TIIE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

the  orb  of  the  innkeeper's  lamp  —  exhibiting  au 
expression  of  over-mastering  alarm  —  the  red- 
haired  individual  stared  at  him  with  all  the 
power  of  his  liquid  visage,  and  demanded,  with 
a  commonplace  oath,  whether  a  rain-storm  com 
monly  bleached  him  to  that  supernatural  complex 
ion.  But  my  Israelite,  brandishing  his  heavy  cane, 
would  have  resented  this  drunken  insolence  by 
breaking  the  landlord's  head,  if  the  latter  had  not 
dexterously  avoided  the  blow.  It  required  an  effort 
on  my  part  to  make  the  fellow  comprehend  that 
we  had  a  dead  man  in  the  carriage ;  and  when  the 
fact  had  finally  penetrated  him,  he  utterly  refused 
to  receive  the  corpse  into  his  house. 

There  were  a  set  already  up  stairs,  he  said,  who 
were  raising  spirits  and  having  unnatural  dealings 
with  the  dead  —  a  thing  so  astounding  as  to  have 
compelled  him,  as  he  averred,  to  fortify  himself 
with  an  extra  glass  of  brandy — and  now,  should 
he  admit  the  murdered  person,  they  would  have 
him  dancing  up  the  stairway  in  ten  minutes,  and 
the  credit  of  his  house  would  be  ruined  forever. 
To  meet  this  argument,  I  offered  various  consider 
ations  in  vain ;  but  finally,  tendering  him  half  an 
eagle,  the  gold  enlightened  his  understanding, 
touched  his  sensibilities,  and  dissipated  his  scruples 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        133 

in  less  than  half  a  minute,  and  the  body  of  poor 
old  Minos  found  shelter  in  a  forlorn  corner  of  the 
tavern.  By  this  time  the  night  was  two-thirds 
gone,  but  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  I 
felt  little  inclination  for  sleep.  I  was  under  too 
much  excitement,  and  troubled  by  too  great  anx 
ieties,  to  be  allowed  to  subside  into  that  luxury. 
Procuring  only  a  change  of  raiment,  therefore,  I 
thought  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  a 
large  square  apartment  adjoining  the  bar-room, 
where  I  directed  a  splendid  fire  to  be  lighted.  Bcl- 
shazzar  had  locked  himself  in  a  bed-room,  directly 
overhead,  and  his  dull,  irregular  tramp  notified  me 
that  he  continued  as  wakeful  as  myself. 

From  the  occupied  chamber  in  the  rear — which 
I  have  already  mentioned  —  came  the  murmur  of 
voices,  interrupted  occasionally  by  a  regular  suc 
cession  of  unaccountable  sounds,  like  a  sort  of 
muffled  hammering. 

My  curiosity  was  a  good  deal  excited  with  ref 
erence  to  the  proceedings  of  this  nocturnal  company, 
which,  judging  by  the  landlord's  account,  I  at  once 
presumed  to  be  a  circle  of  rapping  spiritualists. 

I  had  never  been  present  at  one  of  these  singular 
convocations,  but  had  heard  many  marvellous  ac 
counts  of  what  had  transpired  at  their  sittings.  I 


134  THE   TAKGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

had  conversed  once  with  Peskiewitch  about  the 
startling  assumptions  and  incredible  statements  of 
this  new  sect,  but  the  observations  of  that  inval 
uable  person  were  too  foggy  for  my  edification. 

Still,  there  was  a  certain  mysterious  haze  invest 
ing  the  whole  phenomena,  that  I  mightily  desired 
to  penetrate. 

Here  I  was,  at  last,  in  the  very  house  occupied 
by  one  of  these  marvellous  circles;  and  under 
circumstances,  too,  calculated  to  invest  their 
proceedings  with  even  more  than  usual  interest. 


While  I  warmed  my  chilled  limbs  by  the  fire,  and 
ruminated  on  the  subject  just  mentioned,  my  solitude 
was  suddenly  invaded  by  an  amazing  apparition. 

It  was  a  tall  man,  past  middle  life,  with  thin, 
cadaverous  face,  very  black,  bright,  penetrating 
eyes,  and  a  beard  that  fell  nearly  to  his  waist.  I 
immediately  perceived  that  it  was  the  same  indi 
vidual  who  had  held  colloquy  with  Jehu,  from  the 
window. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  135 

The  man  proceeded  to  say,  that  one  of  the  Har- 
monial  Circles  was  being  held  in  the  house — that 
they  had  just  closed  a  very  interesting  interview 
with  the  spirit  of  Alexander  the  Great — that  they 
were  now  about  to  call  up  the  spirit  of  the  mur 
dered  person,  whose  body  we  had  brought  into  the 
house;  and  that  if  I  pleased  to  join  the  circle 
during  this  scene,  I  had  perfect  freedom  to  do  so. 

All  this  sounded  amazingly  strange,  as  though  I 
had,  all  at  once,  come  into  the  midst  of  Egyptian 
enchantments,  and  stood  face  to  face  with  Cheops. 
If  he  had,  in  his  direct,  matter-of-fact  way,  invited 
me  up  to  the  bar  to  take  a  brandy  sling  with  Pha 
raoh,  or  proposed  that  I  should  lead  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  into  a  cotillion,  it  would  not  have  been  a 
grain  more  surprising. 

They  had  just  dismissed  Alexander  the  Great, 
after  a  pleasant  little  interview,  had  they?  So 
that  imperious  and  mighty  shade,  who  made  the 
world  tremble  under  the  hoofs  of  his  war-horse 
while  here  in  the  flesh,  has  grown  so  pacific  and 
humble  during  the  centuries,  and  has  so  modified 
his  tastes,  moreover,  as  to  now  attend  evening 
parties  at  country  taverns  ! 

Verily,  this  was  quite  as  astonishing  as  the  ethics 
of  Mrs.  Ilarrowscratch. 


136  TIIE    TANGLETOWX    LETTERS. 

I  bit  my  lips  and  wrung  my  fingers,  to  make 
sure  that  I  was  not  dreaming. 

No,  it  was  a  positive  reality.     There  stood  the 
modern  Charon,  who  dealt  so  familiarly  with  th 
great   dead,   complacently   toying    with   his    ripe 
Roman  beard,  and  patiently  waiting  my  decision. 

If  he  had  been  Alexander's  preceptor  himself, 
he  could  not  have  been  more  easy  and  self-possessed. 

After  a  little  perturbed  reflection,  I  arose,  and 
with  a  curious  sort  of  sensation,  not  easily  de 
scribed,  told  Charon  that  I  had  no  objection  to 
joining  the  Circle,  at  least  for  a  few  minutes. 

With  that  he  led  the  way  to  the  room. 

There  were  some  fifteen  men  and  women  seated 
round  an  old  table,  which  had  been  drawn  into  the 
centre  of  the  room.  The  candles  had  burned  low, 
and  the  dim  light  that  shone  upon  the  faces  of 
these  persons  imparted  to  them  a  truly  spectral 
appearance.  Pale  from  the  protracted  vigil,  there 
was  a  glaring  brightness  in  their  eyes  that  indicated 
excitement  bordering  upon  insanity. 

At  one  extremity  of  the  table  sat  a  slim  young 
man,  whose  face  had  mostly  run  to  beard,  and 
wrhose  attenuated  limbs  seemed  to  have  been  ham 
mered  out  upon  an  anvil,  like  steel  rools.  He  seemed 
occupied  with,  a  determined  assault  upon  letters; 


I  THE    TANGLETOWX    LETTERS.  137 

for  an  alphabet  was  spread  before  him,  and  this  he 
was  belaboring,  letter  by  letter,  with  all  the  force 
of  his  right  hand.  I  soon  understood,  however, 
that  somebody's  spirit  was  supposed  to  possess  this 
young  man,  and  to  use  his  hand  in  this  extraordi 
nary  manner  to  spell  words  and  sentences.  Each 
letter  that  was  required  to  express  the  sense  of  the 
spirit  was  summoned  by  a  resounding  blow,  and 
came  into  its  appointed  place  in  the  sentence,  like 
a  reluctant  recruit,  compelled  to  serve  in  some 
revolting  cause. 

It  was  this  monotonous  thumping  which  I 
had  heard  while  in  my  own  room,  a  few  minutes 
before. 

At  the  opposite  end  of  the  table,  sat  a  woman 
whom  I  at  first  supposed  to  be  in  the  last  mor 
tal  agony,  such  writhings  and  contortions  did 
she  exhibit. 

But  Charon,  noticing  my  alarm,  assured  me  that 
this  apparent  suffering  was  only  the  ordinary  phe 
nomenon  presented  by  a  person  in  a  trance,  and  that 
the  woman  whom  I  now  saw  in  this  state,  was  one 
of  their  most  powerful  "speaking  mediums." 

Something  apparently  familiar  in  the  visage  and 
figure  of  this  woman  had  struck  me,  the  instant 
my  eyes  rested  upon  her;  and  now,  as  I  observed 


138  THE    TANGLETOWX    LETTERS. 

her  more  attentively,  I  recognized — in  spite  of 
writhings  and  contortions— -.my  inevitable  Mrs. 
Harrowscratch.  Yes,  there  she  was — this  torment 
of  my  latter-day  existence — glorying  in  exuber 
ant  publicity,  and  intrepidly  seizing  upon  angelic 
society  through  convulsions  awful  to  behold. 

I  was  instantly  reminded  of  a  tradition  of  which 
I  have  somewhere  read,  of  some  audacious  person 
attempting  to  scale  the  heavenly  ramparts.  I 
expect  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  will  yet  attempt  the 
same  respectable  feat,  and  so  put  Sam  Patch  in  the 
shade,  while  she  furnishes  the  theme  of  another 
Miltonic  epic. 

The  edifying  scene  that  ensued,  I  will  describe 
to  you  in  my  next  communication. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  139 


LETTER  SEVENTEENTH. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  TRAP  THREATENS  THE  SPIRITUALISTS  WITH 
COMMON  SENSE,  AT  WHICH  THEY  ARE  SOMEWHAT  DISGUSTED, 
AND  A  VIOLENT  SENSATION  IS  FINALLY  PRODUCED,  GREATLY 
TO  THE  PREJUDICE  OF  BELSHAZZAR. 

IN  the  midst  of  the  whimsical  group  described  in 
my  last,  I  suffered  myself  to  be  seated.  On  one 
side  of  me  sat  the  Longbeard,  Charon,  with  his  dark, 
glittering  eyes,  reminding  me  of  all  the  alleged 
deviltries  of  Magic ;  and  on  the  other  was  a  ghastly, 
angular  woman,  who  was,  as  I  judged,  more 

familiar  with  "the  Night  side  of  nature," 

as  Mrs,  Crow  and  other  sombre  seers  have 
revealed  it  — than  with  any-  of  the  sunnier  aspects 
of  existence. 

With  hands  solemnly  outspread  upon  the  ta 
ble — in  scrupulous  imitation  of  the  rest  —  and 
with  a  disturbing  sense  of  the  absurdity  and  pre 
sumption  of  the  whole  thing,  I  sat  in  all  my 
dignity,  preserving  as  manful  a  gravity  as  I  could. 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  having  writhed  herself  com 
pletely  into  the  trance,  gave  signs  of  being  ready 


140  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

to  announce  some  celestial  message.  But  the 
attenuated  young  man  already  described,  having  his 
right  hand  still  in  the  employ  of  an  industrious 
spirit,  kept  up  such  a  persistent  clapping  as  to 
monopolize  the  attention  of  the  company. 

The  communications  received  through  this  me 
dium,  appeared  to  be  mainly  addressed  to  the 
angular  female  at  my  left,  who  was  just  then  pos 
sessing  herself  of  the  topography  of  the  heavenly 
region. 

Charon  whispered  me  that  the  medium  had  been 
a  most  dissolute  young  man,  and  moreover,  an  utter 
disbeliever  in  the  doctrines  of  religion.  He  nat 
urally  considered  it  a  great  merit  in  spiritualism, 
that  it  had  converted  such  an  obdurate  case.  I,  on 
my  own  part,  considered  it  not  a  little  remarkable 
that  such  a  person  should  have  been  chosen  as  the 
vehicle  of  divine  communications. 

While  I  was  indulging  in  this  reflection,  the 
alleged  spirit  gave  a  response  to  one  of  my  angular 
neighbor's  questions,  so  shockingly  irreverent  that 
the  whole  Circle  recoiled  in  a  kind  of  dismay. 

"  What  does  the  spirit  mean  by  such  an  answer?  " 
inquired  the  medium. 

For  half  a  minute,  a  struggle  seemed  to  take 
place  for  the  possession  of  the  medium's  hand.  He 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  141 

was  violently  shaken  from  side  to  side,  until  it 
seemed  probable  that  the  table  itself  would  be 
overthrown.  At  length  the  hand  relapsed  into  its 
customary  motion,  and  the  Circle  were  informed 
that  the  spirit  had  been  deceiving  them. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  lying  spirits,"  explained  Charon, 
"and  not  one  of  the  spirits  of  light,  as  he  repre 
sented  himself.  The  lying  spirits  are  much  nearer 
to  us  than  those  that  are  truthful,  and  frequently 
exhibit  their  malignity  by  imposing  upon  us  the 
most  outrageous  falsehoods." 

"  It  is' a  pity  that  such  is  the  case,"  said  I,  "  since 
it  must  seriously  detract  from  the  value  of  your 
communications — it  being  impossible  to  decide 
whether  a  given  statement  proceeds  from  a  true  or 
a  false  spirit." 

"  We  are  not  so  much  embarrassed  by  the  diffi 
culty  as  you  suppose,"  answered  Charon;  "we  can 
generally  tell  by  the  character  of  a  communication 
from  what  source  it  emanates" 

"And  still,  unless  I  was  much  mistaken,  the 
statements  of  the  last  spirit  touching  the  heavenly 
world  were  received  by  you  all  as  credible,  until 
the  very  close  of  the  message." 

By  this  time  the  Circle  had  begun  to  eye  me 
with  no  friendly  glances. 


142  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  responded  Charon;  "the 
statements  of  the  last  spirit  were  not  received  by 
us  as  entirely  credible.  They  did  not  perfectly 
accord  with  our  intuitions;  and  where  a  spirit  does 
not  speak  according  to  our  intuitions,  we  do  not 
consider  him  a  truthful  spirit." 

"That  is  to  say,"  resumed  I,  "when  a  spirit 
testifies  to  the  truth  of  what  you  wish  to  believe,  you 
accept  its  communications  as  credible ;  but  when  it 
asserts  things  that  are  repugnant  to  you,  you  con 
demn  it  as  a  lying  witness." 

"Exactly,"  returned  Charon,  "you  have  our 
criterion  to  perfection." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  I,  "  perhaps  you  can  tell 
me  what  benefit  you  derive  from  these  communica 
tions,  since  they  are  not  in  themselves  authoritative, 
but  liable  to  be  received  or  rejected  according  as 
they  gratify  or  displease  your  own  judgment.  It 
seems  to  me  that  any  opinions  you  may  have  held 
respecting  a  future  state,  will  be  neither  confirmed 
nor  weakened  by  the  testimony  of  the  spirits,  since 
they  contradict  each  other,  and  since  many  of 
them  are  convicted  deceivers." 

Here  several  members  of  the  Circle  interposed 
to  arrest  the  controversy,  reminding  me  that  I  had 
not  been  invited  to  debate  the  merits  of  spiritual- 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  143 

ism,  but  to  witness  the  phenomena.  I  willingly 
became  silent,  being  indeed  a  little  displeased  with 
myself  for  having  ventured  to  say  so  much. 

It  was  now  intimated  that  the  spirit  of  old  Minos 
had  taken  possession  of  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  and 
that  the  secret  of  the  murder  would  be  immediately 
disclosed.  Awful  were  the  writhings,  on  the  part 
of  that  redoubtable  female,  which  accompanied  this 
announcement. 

After  suitable  preliminaries  of  this  sort,  which 
tended  to  raise  the  interest  of  the  company  to  an 
amazing  pitch,  a  low  and  indistinct  muttering 
began  to  issue  from  the  lips  of  the  entranced. 
Unless  I  greatly  err  against  charity,  this  was 
designed  to  imitate  the  feeble  drivelling  of  extreme 
dotage ;  but  whether  such  was  the  actress's  inten 
tion  or  not,  the  character  did  not  appear  to  be  very 
well  personated.  I  question  my  ability  to  impart 
to  you  a  true  idea  of  the  ensuing  performance, 
even  if  it  were  desirable  to  do  so.  It  is  revolting 
to  hear  the  dead  caricatured,  though  you  may  have 
had  no  personal  interest  in  them ;  and  it  is  pecu 
liarly  so  where  the  subject  of  the  caricature  hap 
pens  to  have  been  a  friend  or  acquaintance  while 
in  ^he  flesh.  If  you  can  imagine  the  ghost's  tale 
in  Hamlet  rehearsed  by  a  howling  Dervish,  you 


144  THE    TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

will  obtain  some  idea  of  the  manner  with  which 
the  alleged  spirit  of  old  Minos,  speaking 'through 
Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  related  the  horrible  secret  of 
the  murder. 

One  thing  only  did  the  spirit  seem  reluctant  to 
disclose:  it  was  the  name  of  the  person  who  had 
perpetrated  the  crime.  But  the  circumstances  of 
the  tragedy,  as  there  related,  pointed  unequiv 
ocally  to  a  particular  individual,  whom  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing ;  though  the  rest  of  the 
company,  being  unacquainted  with  the  family  of 
the  deceased,  could  not,  of  course,  understand  the 
allusion. 

"We  entreat  the  spirit  to  give  us  the  name  of 
the  murderer,"  said  Charon. 

The  medium  wTithed  and  moaned,  and  tossed 
herself  about  in  the  chair  in  the  most  extraordinary 
fashion. 

"I  doubt  if  the  spirit  be  permitted  to  tell  that 
secret,"  observed  the  attenuated  young  man. 

"It  must  be  disclosed,"  retorted  Charon,  fixing 
his  piercing  eyes  upon  the  medium,  and  clutching 
her  hands  convulsively;  "I  adjure  thee  by  heaven 
and  earth,  by  the  souls  of  the  just  made  perfect, 
and  by  the  holy  Spirit  "of.  God!  " 

Each  person  bent  forward  with  dilating  eyes  and 


TPIE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  145 

suspended  breath,  and  an  interest  that  was  almost 
fierce  in  its  eagerness. 

The  medium  struggled  and  gasped,  as  if  seeking 
deliverance  from  some  powerful  thrall,  and  at  last 
seemed  to  sink  into  utter  exhaustion. 

"The  name — the  name  of  the  murderer!  "  per 
sisted  Charon,  his  eyes  almost  blazing  as  he  bent 
them  on  the  medium's  face. 

A  convulsive  movement  of  the  muscles  was,  for 
a  moment,  the  only  response ;  but  finally  came  the 
audible  words  — 

"He  —  the  blood-stained  —  is  even  under  this 
roof!  " 

There  was  an  emotion  of  horror  depicted  on 
every  face. 

"The  name!  I  conjure  thee,  reveal  the  NAME!  " 
whispered  Charon,  in  a  voice  of  such  intense  deter 
mination  that  I  confess  my  heart  was  thrilled  by  it. 

"  I  must  perforce  obey  thee,"  answered  the 
spirit;  "the  name  of  the  blood-stained  is  — 
Belshazzar!" 

A  strange  voice  suddenly  rung  through  the 
room. 

"Lying  and  perjured  sorcerers!"  cried  Belshaz- 
zar,  "  May  God  blast  the  tongues  that  have  con 
spired  to  ruin  me  !  " 


146  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

For  a  moment  lie  stood  erect  and  wrathful,  and 
then  fainted  dead  away.  We  carried  him  back 
to  his  room,  and  it  was  some  time  before  his 
consciousness  returned. 

Thus  closed  my  interview  with  the  spirits. 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTEES.  147 


LETTER  EIGHTEENTH. 

IN  WHICH  IS  BROUGHT  TO  LIGHT  THE  INCREDIBLE  WICKEDNESS 
OF  MRS.  HARROWSCRATCH,  AND  THE  SUDDEN  CONFUSION  OP 
THAT  INCOMPARABLE  PERSON. 

I  AM  at  length  able  to  narrate  the  climax  of  this 
exciting  adventure.  I  believe  my  last  communica 
tion  closed  with  my  interview  with  the  Harmonic 
Circle.  It  is  not  positively  certain  that  you  gained 
a  very  clear  idea  of  that  transaction,  from  my 
letter,  for  I  wrote  in  more  than  common  haste, 
besides  having  my  mind  distracted  by  various  anxi 
eties.  Add  to  all,  that  these  letters  have  multi 
plied  beyond  my  original  intention,  and  that  I 
have  little  skill  in  the  descriptions  which  they 
occasionally  involve.  A  man  cunning  in  the  use 
of  language,  might,  no  doubt,  have  made  a  very 
effective  impression  with  my  materials;  but,  being 
myself  no  artist,  and  having  no  literary  reputation 
at  stake,  I  only  aim  to  give  you  an  unvarnished 


148  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

statement  of  what  befel  me  during  this  unhappy 
excursion.* 

It  was  near  daybreak  when  I  left  Belshazzar's 
chamber.  The  Circle  had  dissolved,  and  complete 
silence  pervaded  the  house.  I  went  below.  A 
gleam  of  light  shone  from  the  room  in  which  the 
corpse  had  been  deposited ;  but  elsewhere  it  was 
total  darkness.  I  groped  to  the  sitting-room  ad 
joining  the  bar.  The  fire  had  burned  to  ashes; 
and  the  sobbing  of  the  damp  wind  outside — for 
the  storm  was  gradually  abating— sounded  mourn 
ful  and  desolate* 

Reclining  upon  a  settee  at  the  further  side  of 
the  room,  I  ruminated  on  the  extraordinary  events 
of  the  last  few  hours,  and  debated  with  myself 
what  should  first  be  done  in  the  present  emergency. 

*  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  unaffected  modesty  and  meekness  of  Mr. 
Trap,  as  evinced  in  the  above  sentences,  may  conciliate  those  readers 
who  complain  of  the  heaviness  of  the  old  gentleman's  narrative,  or 
who  are  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  see  the  point  of  his  well-meant  allusions. 
Mr.  Trap  is  not  a  man  of  letters  —  indeed,  we  suspect  his  education 
was  rather  neglected  —  and  much  less  is  he  an  inventor  of  tragedy,  or 
professor  in  any  of  the  narcotic  schools  of  literature.  He  is  a  simple- 
minded  old  gentleman,  of  observing  habits  and  somewhat  conservative 
tendencies,  but  of  unimpeachable  goodness  of  heart,  who  is  describing 
his  adventures,  and  commenting  on  men  and  things  in  his  confidential 
way  —  totally  unconscious  of  his  numerous  and  critical  auditory. — 
[EDITOR  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.] 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  149 

I  did  not,  as  you  will  have  supposed,  attach  much 
importance  to  the  charge  preferred  against  Bel 
shazzar  by  the  alleged  spirit ;  but  still,  the  behavior 
of  my  Israelite  had  been  extraordinary,  and  the 
whole  transaction  was  of  a  nature  to  trouble  the 
imagination.  A  superstitious  fear  had  haunted 
Belshazzar  during  the  greater  part  of  the  night; 
and  had  taken  such  vigorous  hold  upon  him  as  to 
supplant,  apparently,  for  the  time  being,  the  re 
vengeful  purpose  which,  had  recently  actuated  him. 
To  whatever  cause  this  change  might  be  attrib 
uted,  I  rejoiced  in  it  as  likely  to  avert — for  the 
present,  at  least — the  dangerous  collision  between 
Belshazzar  and  Chatterton;  and  I  hoped  that — 
persuading  my  companion  to  tarry  for  me  at  the 
tavern — I  might  proceed  in  a  few  hours,  alone,  in 
search  of  Amelia. 

Thus  reflecting  and  planning,  I  had  nearly  lapsed 
into  sleep,  when  I  became  gradually  conscious  of 
the  sound  of  voices  within  the  room.  So  vague 
was  the  impression,  at  first,  in  my  half-conscious 
state,  that  I  supposed  myself  to  be  dreaming ;  and 
the  subdued  tone  in  which  the  parties  conversed, 
tended  to  prolong  the  delusion.  But,  at  length, 
the  unmistakable  voice  of  Mrs.  Ilarrowscratch 


150  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

made  itself  distinctly  audible,  and  I  was  wakeful 
enough  after  that. 

These  were  about  the  first  words  I  was  able  to 
understand : 

"I  tell  you,"  said  the  intrepid  reformer,  "it  is 
our  only  chance  of  effecting  a  separation  between 
them.  I  have  tried  to  work  upon  her  passion  and 
his  jealousy,  but  that  string  is  broken.  Her  pru 
dery  and  Chatterton's  impatience  have  ruined  that 
branch  of  the  plot.  It  must  be  this,  or  nothing." 

Some  indistinct  response  was  made  to  these 
words,  and  I  recognized  the  voice  of  Charon. 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch  immediately  proceeded : 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  with  what  perseverance  I 
have  devoted  myself  to  this  business? — with  what 
skill  I  have  managed  it  from  the  beginning?  I 
put  the  first  devilish  suggestion  into  Chatterton's 
heart,  and  have  held  the  tempting  idea  before  him, 
until  his  whole  soul  has  become  inflamed  by  it.  I 
have  so  contrived  matters  that  she  has  been  thrown 
continually  in  his  society ;  and  thus,  while  expos 
ing  her  to  all  the  blandishments  of  his  company,  I 
have  labored,  with  all  the  art  I  am  mistress  of, 
to  undermine  her  principles,  and  to  make  her  look 

upon  her  own  scruples  as  ridiculous 

This  part  of  my  task  I  have  had  to  manage  with 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  151 

great  prudence.  A  direct  attack  would  have  dis 
gusted  her,  and  spoiled  my  influence.  A  woman's 
instincts — as  it  is  now  common  to  designate 
them — have  an  obstinate  leaning  toward  virtue. 
She  can  not  be  corrupted  by  any  direct  or  open 
means.  Her  mind  is  easily  sophisticated — for  she 
is  no  great  reasoner  —  and  this  is  the  only  means  of 
corrupting  her  heart.  Don't  sneer  at  me,  sir;  I 
once  had  a  woman's  delicacy  myself,  and  I  tell  you 
there  is  nothing  to  which  she  clings  with  such  des 
peration,  and  nothing  of  which  she  is  not  capable 
when  it  is  once  gone." 

There  was  a  perceptible  faltering  in  the  woman's 
voice,  as  she  pronounced  the  last  words,  that  some 
how  touched  me  with  an  emotion  of  momentary 
compassion. 

"  You  found  her  impressible  to  your  artifices,  I 
presume,"  said  Charon. 

"Her  situation  naturally  gave  me  an  advantage. 
She  abhorred  her  husband,  and  her  vacant  heart 
lay,  as  it  were,  at  the  mercy  of  the  first  passer 
by.  I  felt  sure  that  its  barriers  might  be  passed  by 

so  agile  and  brilliant  a  man  as  Chatterton 

I  made  my  wicked  approaches  by  a  thousand  sub 
tle  manoeuvres —  preparing  his  way!  It  was  a 
task  that  could  not  be  hurried.  Time  must  needs 


152  T1IE    TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

be  allowed  for  my  sophistries  to  work 

One  evening  I  read  her  a  powerful  story — it  was 
of  unlawful  love;  but  when  I  approached  the 
sequel,  I  violated  the  author's  moral,  and  repre 
sented  a  happy  consummation !  " 

"An  enterprising  experiment,  that,"  observed 
Charon,  "how  did  it  take?" 

"We  were  quite  alone.  She  made  no  remark 
upon  it  for  half  an  hour,  but  sat  as  in  deep  reverie. 
Finally,  she  looked  me  steadily  in  the  face,  and 
said,  'that  was  an  immodest  deception  you  tried 
to  practice  upon  me.  I  had  read  the  story.  The 
lovers  committed  suicide  to  escape  their  own 
shame  and  the  scorn  of  mankind.'  " 

"By  Jove!  your  vaulting  deviltry  overleaped 
itself  there." 

"I  had  to  exercise  the  greatest  caution,  after 
that;  but  still,  I  saw  that  she  yielded,  little  by 
little,  to  my  incessant  temptations — not  that  she 
saw  whither  she  was  sliding,  or  comprehended  her 
own  feelings — but  I,  (who  had  arranged  the  plot, 
and  made  myself  familiar  with  every  thread  of  the 
web,)  saw  the  direction  her  mind  was  assuming,  and 
knew  the  inevitable  abyss! " 

You  can  imagine,  Frank,  with  what  emotions  I 
listened  to  this  diabolical  confession. 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  153 

''At  length,"  pursued  Mrs.  Harrowscratch,  UI 
Lad  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  the  fetters  of 
this  unlawful  affection  were  securely  riveted  upon 
the  reluctant  woman.  I  was  persuaded  that  she 

would  sacrifice  everything  to  him It 

was  time  to  stimulate  the  jealousy  of  Belshazzar. 
A  rupture,  as  a  diplomatist  would  say,  was  indis 
pensable.  Then  a  collision — violence,  perhaps  — 
then  a  separation.  Then  scandal  —  disgrace,  and 
Amelia  would  be  committed  to  our  party — her 
name  and  her  fortune  would  be  at  our  disposal. 
A  woman  of  her  substance  won  to  the  side  of  our 
philosophy  would. richly  recompense  all  my  exer 
tions;  for  what  we  especially  need — as  you  and  I 
have  often  said — is  the  authority  of  brilliant  social 
examples,  and  the  power  of  money.  (With  a  few 
hundreds  at  my  command,  for  instance,  I  would 
publish  my  LILLY  BASSWOOD,  a  story  that  all  the 
booksellers  are  afraid  of,  because  they  think  it  cal 
culated  to  shock  l popular  prejudices!'  And  you 
might  go  on  with  your  high-toned  journal,  devoted 
to  the  theory  of  the  Harmonic  Conjunction,  but 
for  want  of  that  indispensable  currency,  of  which 
this  woman  has  an  overflowing  abundance.") 

Ah,  Frank,  I  begin  to  understand  why  Mrs.  H. 
7* 


154  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

was  so  desirous  of  converting  me  to  her  delightful 
ethics. 

" It  was  about  a  week  since,"  pur 
sued  this  intrepid  female,  "while  we  were  stopping 

at  P ,  that  I  forwarded  an  anonymous  letter 

to  Belshazzar.  I  know  the  suspicious  and  inflam 
matory  nature  of  the  man,  and  calculated  that  four 
or  five  days  would  bring  him  in  fury  upon  us.  I 
designed  that  he  should  find  Chatterton  in  sedu 
lous  attendance  upon  his  wife ;  and  I  knew  that  he 
would  not  require  very  strong  confirmation  of  what 
had  been  charged  in  the  letter.  Whatever  should 
happen,  then,  I  trusted  to  my  somewhat  ready 
invention  to  turn  it  to  an  advantageous  account." 

"And  yet  this  full-blown  scheme  collapsed 
miserably?"  said  Charon. 

"  By  an  utterly  unforeseen  accident.  Scarcely  had 
the  letter  started  on  its  course,  than  Satan  tempted 
Chatterton  to  commit  the  maddest  folly.  The 
conceited,  reckless,  impatient  fool!  Whatever 
favor  he  had  won  in  her  eyes,  was  lost  in  one 
shameful,  fatal  instant.  He  deserves  the  doom  of 

an  anchorite  for  his  cursed  imprudence 

Amelia  came  to  me  like  an  angel  of  wrath.  My 
God!  what  fury  flashed  from  her  scarlet  face! 
Her  form  swayed  and  heaved  like  a  tall  maple 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        155 

exposed  to  the  tempest.  No  woman  on  the  stage 
ever  looked  so  grand  and  terrible.  She  amazed 
and  confounded  me.  It  must  have  been  true 
resentment — an  abhorrence  inspired  by  invincible 

virtue Of  course,  Chatterton  fled, 

he  will  never  dare  to  look  her  in 

the  face  again.  Our  party  scattered  the  same  day, 
Amelia  to  visit  some  acquaintance  hereabout,  and 
I  —  " 

"  To  seek  whom  you  may  devour,"  said  Charon, 
completing  the  sentence  in  his  own  way. 

There  was  a  momentary  silence ;  and  I  breathed 
a  devout  thanksgiving  for  the  escape  of  my  belea 
guered  friend.  The  story  had  singularly  confirmed 
both  my  fears  for  her,  and  my  faith  in  her.  I  was 
never  so  proud  of  Amelia  as  at  that  instant. 

"And  now,"  observed  Charon,  "everything  de 
pends  on  the  effect  of  this  absurd  charge  which 
you  have  preferred  against  Belshazzar !  " 

"You  forget,  it  is  not  I,  but  the  spirit  of  Minos 
speaking  through  me,  that  has  charged  this  crime 
upon  Belshazzar.  Let  no  one  say  that  I  have 
accused  him?" 

Charon  uttered  a  low  whistle,  which  seemed  to 
express  an  infinite  contempt  for  something  or 
somebody. 


156  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

"A  capital  resource,  is  this  new-fangled  necro 
mancy —  especially  to  rogues  in  extremity.  I  once 
knew  a  thief  who  made  the  devil  responsible  for 
all  his  little  peccadilloes ;  and  I  have  hope  that  the 
spirits  may  be  made  to  assume  our  burdens,  yet 
more  effectually,  whenever  we  shall  be  in  danger 
of  foundering  beneath  them!  But  I  am  afraid  it 
will  be  hard  to  substantiate  your  accusation — the 
testimony  of  spirits  not  being  received  in  our 
courts!" 

"Pshaw!  as  if  I  wanted  to  bring  the  man  to 
the  gallows!  All  I  expect  is,  to  cast  a  certain 
suspicion  over  him  —  to  have  him  regarded  with  a 
sort  of  odium.  If  I  can  but  increase  Amelia's 
abhorrence  of  him  a  single  degree,  she  will  yet 
leave  him  in  spite  of  all.  And,  fortunately,  his 
behavior  was  such,  at  the  instant  of  the  accusation, 
as  to  lend  it  confirmation.  Nothing  could  have 
been  better.  Was  there  a  person  present  who  will 
not  account  such  extraordinary  emotion  a  sign  of 
guilt?" 

"Do  not  be  too  sanguine;  there  was  the  old 
gent. —  Mr.  Trap,  I  think  you  called  him  —  who 
argued  against  our  first  fact,  and  who,  I  observed, 
regarded  you  with  more  than  a  doubtful  glance.  I 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  157 

think  you  were  unwise  to  have  invited  so  shrewd  a 
man  to  witness  our  farce." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  was  important  to  have  him 
present,  for  he  thinks  Belshazzar  is  capable  of 
any  crime ;  and  would,  at  all  events,  countenance 
an  impression  that  is  likely  to  separate  Amelia  from 
him.  Besides  —  " 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch  broke  off  suddenly,  and  with 
a  cry  of  pain ;  for  Charon  had  seized  her  arm  with 
a  fierce  grasp,  while  he  silently  pointed  toward  the 
settee. 

The  fact  is,  the  day  had  been  gradually  break 
ing,  during  this  strange  conversation,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  my  reclining  form  had  become 
visible. 

They  tarried  not  for  explanation.  A  profane 
ejaculation  from  one,  and  a  hysterical  cry  from  the 
other,  as  they  vanished  through  the  doorway,  was 
all  the  salute  I  received. 


As  I  stepped  into  the  hall,  with  a  view  of  pass 
ing  to  Belshazzar's  chamber,  a  carriage  was  driven 


158  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

furiously  to  the  door,  from  which,  almost  instantly, 
appeared  the  noble  form  of  Amelia. 

How  rapidly  travel  woful  tidings !     Two  hours 

before,  at  D ,  she  had  heard  the  bloody  news : 

and  here  she  came,  through   the   reeking   dawn, 
to  greet  her  father's  corpse. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  159 


NOTE. 

BY   THE   INSINUATING    EDITOR. 

FROM  some  indistinct  memoranda  written  on  the 
back  of  this  letter,  it  would  seem  that  Mr.  Trap 
desired  to  qualify,  in  some  measure,  his  allusions  to 
SPIRITUALISM.  The  mention  of  the  subject,  which 
occurs  in  this  letter  and  the  one  preceding,  was 
made  at  an  early  stage  of  the  "  manifestations," 
and  under  circumstances  by  no  means  favorable  to 
a  good  opinion  of  the  phenomena.  Subsequent 
investigations,  while  they  failed  to  convince  Mr. 
Trap  of  the  spiritual  origin  of  the  appearances, 
seem  to  have  bred  in  him  a  little  more  respect  for 
some  of  them.  Now  and  then  he  appears  to  have 
witnessed  a  phenomenon  that  almost  persuaded  him 
to  become  a  spiritualist — there  being  in  it  no  pal 
pable  violations  of  propriety  and  common  sense — 
but  it  was  his  fate  to  encounter,  directly  after 
ward,  a  manifestation  of  another  sort — full  of 
grossness,  buffoonery  and  clap-trap  —  and  so  his 
feeble  faith  died  in  the  very  act  of  being  born. 

Mr.  Trap  seems  to  have  been  greatly  annoyed  by 


160  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

the  persevering  endeavors  of  Peskiewitch  to  con 
vert  him  to  the  new  ism.  This  enlightened  person, 
and  exemplary  head  of  a  family,  has  become  a 
famous  "  medium."  Wherever  he  goes,  groups  of 
spirits  struggle  for  the  monopoly  of  his  organs, 
that  they  may  shed  their  wisdom  on  the  world 
through  so  transparent  an  agency.  If  he  goes  out 
to  spend  a  social  evening  with  a  friend,  the  enrap 
tured  furniture  straightway  holds  high  carnival — 
the  aspiring  sofa  sailing  up  stairs  with  edifying  facil 
ity —  solid  astral  lamps  going  about  to  wink,  hu 
morously,  at  all  the  pictures — demure  old  tables  sud 
denly  splitting  themselves  with  irrepressible  glee — 
and  the  piano  bursting  out  into  such  uproarious 
hilarity,  that  the  very  keys  jump  out  of  their  places, 
and  frisk  about  the  room  like  incorrigible  imps! 
Lately,  Peskiewitch  has  become  a  trance  lec 
turer:  he  travels  extensively — his  expenses  being 
paid  by  liberal  collections  —  and  thus  he  sees  a 
good  deal  of  the  world,  and  the  world  sees  a  good 
deal  of  him.  lie  goes  before  his  audience,  utterly 
unconscious  of  what  he  is  destined  to  say,  silently 
advertising  to  the  spiritual  world  in  general — "A 
MAN  TO  LET;  INQUIRE  WITHIN."  In  due  time,  some 
spirit  —  desiring  short  lease  of  such  a  tenement, 
examines  the  premises  and  takes  possession ;  uses 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  161 

the  corporeal  furniture  of  our  Peskiewitch  as  long 
as  it  likes,  and  then  vacates  the  place  —  HE,  mean 
time,  being  as  unconscious  of  all  that  has  transpired 
as  any  house  in  Tangletown  is  of  the  doings  of 
its  tenants! 

It  may  argue  some  bigotry  in  Mr.  Trap,  that  he 
has  not  been  persuaded  to  acknowledge  the  claims 
of  spiritualism,  with  all  the  advantages  of  inter 
course  with  so  accomplished  a  medium.  Such, 
however,  is  the  fact;  and,  perhaps,  I  can  riot  bet 
ter  justify  my  old  friend,  in  the  eyes  of  the  true 
believers,  than  by  quoting  his  actual  convictions 
on  the  subject,  as  they  are  indicated  in  the  above 
mentioned  memoranda. 

I.  That   men   of    unquestioned    sincerity    and 
intelligence    believe   the  "manifestations"   to    be 
"  spiritual." 

SOBER  SECOND-THOUGHT  —  That  many  such  per 
sons  have,  in  various  ages  and  countries,  been 
egregiously  humbugged. 

II.  That  many  hollow-hearted  adventurers  resort 
to  the  phenomena  for  "capital,"  and  achieve  em- 
iiient  success   by   abusing   the  natural    "  gullibil 
ity"  of  man. 

SAVING  CLAUSE  —  That  bad  men  are  liable  to  be 
found  in  all  parties,  and  that  Truth  is  not  respons- 


162  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

ible  for  the  dregs  it  may  bring  up,  in  its  descent 
into  society. 

III.  That,  since  God  is  Infinite,  and  man  Finite, 
there  may  be  "more  things  in  Heaven  and  Earth 
than  are  dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy." 

ULTIMATE  REFLECTION — That  it  is  best  to 
prove  all  things,  if  we  can,  and  to  hold  fast  to 
that  which  we  know  to  be  good. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  163 


LETTER  NINETEENTH. 

EXHIBITING  -MR.  TRAP  IN  ONE   OF  HIS    MORALIZING  MOODS,  AND 

ALSO  AFFORDING  A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  WISE  OLD  GENTLEMAN 
AS  CRITIC;— THE  WHOLE  LETTER  BEING  LESS  DULL  THAN 
MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  EXPECTED. 

I  RETURNED  to  Tangletown  yesterday,  after  hav 
ing  seen  the  body  of  poor  old  Minos  laid  asleep  at 
Greenwood. 

It  is  a  beautiful  place  to  lie  after  the  struggle  of 
life  is  over,  but  scarcely  the  place  befitting  the 
mortal  repose  of  such  a  man  as  Minos.  Youth,  in 
the  lustre  of  its  freshest  beauty — Manliness,  in 
the  serenity  of  its  perfect  life— patient  Virtue,  con 
tending  with  unmerited  persecution — and  Genius, 
luxuriating  in  the  lofty  realm  of  the  Ideal— these 
have  an  indisputable  title  to  the  spot,  where  the 
beneficence  of  Nature  and  the  tender  care  of  Man 
unite  to  embellish  the  city  of  the  dead.  But,  for 
those  who  have  lived  grossly,  and  wholly  for  the 
aggrandizement  of  their  pitiful  self — who  had  no 
sympathy  for  man,  no  generous  faith  in  God — no 


164  THE   TANGLETOWX   LETTERS. 

sparkling  of  Fancy,  no  illusions  of  Hope,  to  gild 
and  soften  the  rigorous  aspect  of  the  world — who 
have  imprisoned  every  glorious  faculty,  and  ban 
ished  every  noble  emotion,  while  they  have  in 
dulged  a  sordid  meanness  or  brutish  sensuality — 
what  claim  have  they  to  this  solemn  Paradise, 
where  all  things  speak  of  Beauty  and  of  Hope — of 
generous  and  reverential  Memory  in  Man,  and  of 
his  perennial  trust  in  the  Loving  Kindness  of  his 
God? 

And  yet — it  were  unkind  to  deny  to  those, 
whose  lives  were  barren  of  all  beauty,  the  uncon 
scious  adornment  of  a  grave.  To  none  is  this 
mortal  life  so  bleak,  so  delusive,  and  so  mysterious, 
as  to  the  sordid  and  the  bad.  Let  the  odor  of 
flowers  breathe  upon  them,  and  holy  symbols  mar 
shal  them  along  their  solemn  way,  as  they  pass 
hence  into  the  portal  that  whispers  no  secrets  back. 
For  I  have  a  trust  that  the  Green 
wood,  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave,  will  not  be 
deemed  desecrated  by  any  soul  that  God  has  ever 
made,  after  being  refined  in  the  crucible  of  his 
Providence,  and  baptized  in  the  aroma  of  his  Love. 

At  the  funeral  was  enacted  a  wretched  farce  that 
I  can  not  forbear  alluding  to.  It  consisted  in  eulo 
gizing  the  deceased  for  a  great  number  of  Virtues 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  165 

which  he  did  not  possess.  So  utterly  inapplicable 
was  the  language  to  the  occasion,  that  it  had  the 
effect  of  a  stinging  satire,  and  only  served  to  remind 
every  hearer  of  the  lamentable  deficiencies  in  the 
character  it  was  designed  to  glorify.  I  could  not 
but  marvel  at  the  obtuseness  of  the  minister,  in  not 
foreseeing  the  inevitable  effect  of  such  a  preposter 
ous  eulogy;  while  I  was  shocked  at  the  moral 
recklessness  that  could  perpetrate,  in  so  public  a 
manner,  such  a  notorious  falsehood. 

Let  the  errors  of  the  dead  be  forgotten  at  their 
graves ;  but  let  no  man  outrage  propriety,  or  trifle 
with  the  dictates  of  Truth,  by  ascribing  to  them 
attributes  which  they  never  possessed,  and  thus 
breaking  down  the  sacred  distinctions  of  character. 

It  is  not  yet  known  by  whose  hand  old  Minos 
came  to  hi?  violent  death.  But,  as  he  was  found 
to  have  been  robbed,  no  doubt  the  love  of  money — 
as  it  had  caused  him  to  live  grossly — also  brought 
nim  to  his  bloody  doom.  The  idol  he  had  wor 
shipped  slew  him. 

Belshazzar  is  singularly  affected  by  the  sacri 
legious  farce,  which  was  played,  to  his  prejudice, 
at  the  country  tavern.  It  is  in  vain  that  I  have 
exposed  to  him  the  whole  plot.  It  seems  that  he 
and  Minos  had  quarrelled  at  their  last  meeting,  on 


166  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

some  business  difficulty,  and  that  the  wrathful  old 
man — on  parting  with  his  son-in-law — had  threat 
ened  him  with  vengeance,  whether  he  lived  or  died. 
These  equivocal  words  —  disregarded  at  the  time  — 
were  recalled  with  terror  when  the  murdered  body 
of  Minos  was  so  unexpectedly  found;  and,  from 
that  moment,  a  vague,  intolerable  dread  hung  over 
Belshazzar,  which  was  aggravated  into  positive 
consternation,  when  he  heard,  as  he  supposed, 
the  spirit  of  the  dead  charge  the  murder  itself 
upon  him. 

So  superstitious  is  this  man,  and  so  credulous  in 
reference  to  supernatural  agencies,  that  the  occur 
rence  really  affects  him  to  a  degree  which  you 
can  hardly  appreciate.  Nor  is  the  case  rendered 
less  disturbing  by  the  fact,  that  certain  spirit 
ualists  actually  implicate  him  in  the  crime,  on  the 
authority  of  that  most  impudent  and  unhallowed 
imposture. 

Mrs.  Harrowscratch  and  her  minion  precipitately 
fled  from  the  tavern,  and  I  think  that  even  her 
impudence  will  shrink  from  any  attempt  to  justify 
herself  to  Amelia. 

Peskiewitch  is  rather  crest-fallen  by  the  report  I 
have  made  on  the  Harrowscratchian  scheme,  and 
has  wisely  withheld  two  or  three  sonnets  which 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  167 

he  was  about  to  publish,  in  praise  of  his  intrepid 
favorite. 

While  alluding  to  Peskiewitch's  sonnetteering,  I 
may  as  well  inform  you  that  the  gifted  fellow  has 
written  an  epic  of  some  ten  thousand  lines, 
designed  to  commemorate  the  progress  of  our  arms 
in  Mexico.  The  plot,  I  am  led  to  believe,  must  be 
inscrutably  intricate,  since  I  can  gain  no  apprehen 
sion  of  it,  after  having  listened  to  five  successive 
rehearsals.  A  diversity  of  measures  is  employed, 
which  tends  to  avert  monotony  in  the  reading; 
and,  indeed,  traversing  the  ever-changing  page  is 
productive  of  the  same  pleasure  one  experiences  in 
riding  over  a  fresh  plowed  and  uneven  field,  with  a 
neck-breaking  ditch  to  be  leaped  every  three  rods. 
As  for  metaphors,  they  inflate  every  line,  and  are 
so  cunningly  interlinked,  from  beginning  to  end  of 
the  work,  that  it  is  impossible  to  separate  one  from 
another.  So  profound  are  they  in  their  purport, 
moreover,  that  a  common  reader  will  be  utterly 
baffled  in  his  attempt  to  penetrate  their  meaning. 
In  nothing,  perhaps,  is  the  exuberant  genius  of  the 
author  more  richly  manifest,  than  in  these  recondite 
metaphors.  They  will  constitute  a  difficult  study, 
even  for  the  learned,  and  none  but  the  most  ingen- 


168  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

ious  critics  will  be   able   to  show  how  felicitous 
they  are. 

The  modest  author  tells  me,  confidentially,  that 
he  does  not  expect  from  the  poem  any  such  popu 
larity  as  has  attended  Homer's  epics,  but  that  he 
shall  be  content  if  it  insures  him  an  income  of  two 
or  three  thousand  a  year.  One  evidence  of  the 
merit  of  the  work  has  certainly  not  been  wanting : 
the  booksellers  show  an  astonishing  unanimity  of 
judgment  in  their  universal  rejection  of  it — thereby 
implying  for  it  a  certain  affinity  with  "Paradise 
Lost,"  and  other  celebrated  productions,  that  have 
been  miserably  embarrassed  in  getting  before  the 
public,  through  the  dullness  and  parsimoniousness 
of  the  literary  ushers. 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  169 


LETTER   TWENTIETH. 

IN  WHICH  IS  SHOWN  HOW  THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD  GOT  INTO 
MR.  TRAP'S  CHURCH,  AND  HIS  DUBIOUS  SUCCESS  AS  GRAND 
PACIFICATOR. 

OUR  minister  has  just  paid  me  a  visit.  Things 
are  turning  out  as  I  had  feared  they  might.  The 
parish  is  convulsed  by  dissensions  on  the  slavery 
question.  Several  influential  men  are  indignant 
toward  the  minister,  for  having  given  his  views  on 
the  Fugitive  Slave  Bill.  They  threaten  to  with 
draw  from  the  church,  and  connect  themselves 
with  Dr.  Fiblong's  Society,  unless  Mr.  Mann  is 
dismissed.  Others  glory  in  the  minister's  boldness 
and  fidelity.  Sharing  his  views,  or  admiring  his 
independence,  they  declare  themselves  ready  to 
stand  by  him  through  the  severest  trials. 

Whenever  these  parties  meet,  there  is  a  violent 
collision.  Neither  party  is  very  tolerant  of  the 
other's  views,  I  suspect,  and  each  is  quite  as  willing 
to  aggravate,  as  conciliate,  his  excited  opponent. 

All  this  troubles  and  depresses  the  minister  to  a 
8 


170  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

greater  degree  than  either  faction  is  aware.  He 
does  not  desire  that  the  parish  should  be  sundered 
on  his  account,  for  his  is  a  ministry  of  reconcilia 
tion.  He  can  not  take  a  partisan  attitude  with 
either  party,  for  both  are  under  his  spiritual  charge, 
and,  by  speaking  the  truth  in  love,  he  would  equally 
promote  the  welfare  of  both.  What  he  desires  is, 
to  persuade  one  faction  not  to  contend  on  his  ac 
count,  and  to  convince  the  other  that  he  is  not 
their  enemy  because  he  has  dared  to  preach  the 
truth. 

Mr.  Mann  has  flattered  me  by  soliciting  my 
counsel  in  this  unpleasant  exigency ;  but  I  heartily 
wish  for  him  a  more  competent  adviser.  The  best 
I  can  do,  I  think,  will  be  to  go  out  and  reason  with 
some  of  the  most  violent  agitators. 


I  have  been  abroad  among  different  members  of 
the  Society  on  a  mission  of  conciliation.  I  have 
talked  myself  hoarse;  and  been  called  a  fool  so 
many  times  in  the  course  of  the  day,  that  I  am 
almost  ready  to  admit  the  charge.  The  parish  is 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        171 

possessed  by  the  spirit  of  discord.  I  have  found 
common  sense  as  much  out  of  favor  as  charity. 
Even  Herman  is  not  unaffected  by  the  evil  spirit 
of  the  time.  He  has  subscribed  for  the  Liberator 
newspaper,  and  already  talks  like  a  revolutionist. 


172  THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 


LETTER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

CONTAINING  AN  ALLUSION   TO    DR.    FIBLONG,  AND  A  STRAIN    OF 
DECLAMATION  MORE  TRUTHFUL  THAN  COMPLIMENTARY. 

MATTERS  are  growing  worse  and  -worse  in  our 
congregation.  Three  families  have  abandoned  the 
church,  and  taken  seats  with  Dr.  Fiblong's  genteel 
flock.  That  sound  divine  is  just  now  engaged  in 
delivering  a  course  of  sermons  on  LATENT  INFIDEL 
ITY,  OR  SYMPTOMS  OF  THE  SATANIC  SPIRIT  IN  THE 
NATURAL  MAN;  in  which — as  I  am  informed  by 
one  of  his  admiring  hearers — it  is  conclusively 
proved  that  all  who  speak  against  the  Fugitive 
Slave  Bill,  or  decline  to  execute  its  provisions,  are 
destitute  of  "vital  piety,"  led  by  their  "carnal 
sensibilities,"  naturally  seditious,  argumentative 
rationalists,  and  certain  to  be  conducted  by  their 
free-thinking  habits  into  eternal  hell-fire. 

Frank,  pardon  an  indignant  philippic.  I  am  out 
of  patience  with  the  timid  subserviency  and  imbe 
cile  cant  of  the  popular  clergy.  I  am  amazed  at 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  173 

the  drowsy  attitude  of  the  Christian  Church  toward 
the  formidable  evils  of  the  time.  I  am  confounded 
by  the  apathy  of  those  who  claim  to  be  "pious" 
and  "evangelical,"  in  view  of  the  gigantic  iniqui 
ties  that  swagger  before  them  unrebuked.  Unless 
my  superficial  reading  of  Christian  History  has 
deceived  me,  the  Church  of  Christ  was  once  the 
bulwark  of  the  oppressed;  the  terror  of  hypo 
crites  ;  the  nursery  of  bold  and  genial  Manliness ; 
the  awe  and  dread  both  of  private  villainy  and 
public  crime ;  the  source  of  ample  charities,  and 
the  inspiration  of  moral  heroism,  that  blessed  arid 
dignified  all  that  came  within  its  sphere.  What  is 
it  now?  An  easy,  well-kept  establishment,  a 
decent  routine  ;  a  spiritual  phantasm,  gliding  noise 
lessly  about  the  world,  and  leaving  no  sign.  Once, 
there  were  no  Temperance,  or  Peace,  or  Anti-Sla 
very  societies,  for  the  Church  included  all  these  in 
her  ample  purposes,  and  expressed  the  best  and 
highest  aspirations  of  man.  Now,  brave  and  earnest 
men  must  leave  the  Church — or  at  least  the  fash 
ionable  departments  of  it — occupied  as  it  is  with 
Theological  inanities  —  and  erect  independent  or 
ganizations  for  the  vindication  of  human  rights,  and 
the  promotion  of  social  purity ;  and,  after  all,  be 


174  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

stigmatized  as  "  infidels,"  by  the  dull  and  canting 
drivellers  whom  they  have  left  behind. 

Once,  the  Christian  clergy  were  strong  and  stal 
wart  men,  who  believed  that  they  were  God's  min 
isters,  and  not  the  puppets  of  their  people ;  who 
looked  iniquity  in  the  face,  bluster  as  it  might,  and 
tore  off  its  cunning  mask,  come  what  would  of  it — 
being  conscious  that  God's  grace  was  sufficient  for 
them.  What  are  they  now  ?  I  blush  to  answer. 
Many  of  them,  timid  sycophants  and  speculative 
drivellers,  who  go  carefully  round  some  state  sin 
or  fashionable  infidelity  —  as  a  dandy  would  avoid 
a  dangerous  bull — and  then  pacify  their  conscien 
ces  by  coming  down,  with  demonstrative  bravery, 
upon  some  Bible  crime — such  as  the  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost — which  has  not  been  committed  for 
eighteen  hundred  years,  and  never  will  be  again 
Most  of  our  genteel  congregations,  I  suppose,  are 
edified  by  such  ministers ;  and  how  the  miserable 
world  is  to  be  helped  out  of  the  slough  in  which  it 
flounders,  ly  such  guides,  is  inscrutable  to  me. 

I  know  there  are  true,  and  gifted,  and  valiant 
men  yet  in  the  ministry;  but  they  are  generally  sta 
tioned  over  obscure  charges,  and  the  sphere  of  their 
influence  is  narrow.  Besides,  the  situation  of  those 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  175 

men  is  always  precarious ;  for  their  congregations 
— taking  their  cue  from  the  larger  societies — are 
prone  to  take  alarm  at  any  unusual  freedom  on  the 
part  of  their  preacher,  arid  solicitous  to  confine  him 
within  what  are  deemed  orthodox  limits,  even 
though  they  shackle  the  brightest  and  most  benefi 
cent  of  his  attributes.  0  that  societies  knew  their 
true  interests  better !  For,  while  dictating  to  the 
preachers  what  they  shall  utter,  and  hearing,  there 
fore,  only  the  echo  of  their  own  imbecility,  they 
must  lapse  into  apathy  and  practical  atheism; 
whereas  a  more  tolerant  disposition  wrould  stimu 
late  every  gift  and  energy  of  the  preacher,  infuse 
an  original  and  vital  quality  into  his  free  words, 
and  render  his  ministry  a  living  power  instead  of  a 
dead  formula.  0  that  ministers  had  more  heroism 
of  soul,  and  more  faith  in  God !  For  then  would 
they  claim  a  free  utterance,  and  fearlessly  maintain 
the  sovereignty  of  God's  Truth  in  the  earth ;  and 
no  true  man  would  ever  suffer  for  his  fidelity,  if  no 
base  time-server  was  at  hand  to  supersede  him. 


I   have   received  a   letter  from   my  dear  Aunt 
Honoria,  in  which  she  expresses  much  concern  for 


176  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

my  spiritual  safety.  I  shall  write  her  in  a  few 
days,  when  I  hope  to  put  her  fears  to  rest,  and  to 
convince  her  that  I  have  had  quite  as  profound  an 
experience  of  the  matters  to  which  she  alludes,  as 
herself. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  177 


LETTER  TWENTY-SECOND. 

IN  WHICH    MR.  TRAP    CONFESSES    HIS    HERESY,  AND    DISCLOSES 
THE  TERRIBLE  TRAGEDY  OF  HIS  DOMESTIC  LIFE. 

MY  BELOVED  AUNT: — I  have  read  your  letter 
attentively,  and  bestowed  upon  it  that  deliberate 
consideration  which  is  merited  by  the  importance 
of  the  subject  which  it  introduces.  In  submitting 

o 

my  reply,  I  shall  use  the  utmost  frankness,  stating 
my  convictions  without  reserve,  and  characterizing 
things  by  what  seem  to  be  the  right  terms,  even  at 
the  risk  of  being  charged  with  severity. 

Your  kind  heart  seems  to  be  troubled  by  the  ap 
prehension,  that  I  am  "neglecting  the  interest  of 
my  soul."  The  meaning  of  this  language  is  quite 
obvious.  You  doubt  whether  I  have  not  postponed 
the  consideration  of  my  prospects  in  the  future 
state,  —  whether  I  am  not  unsettled  in  view  of  my 
spiritual  destination,  and  whether  I  may  not  still 
be  under  the  "wrath  and  curse  of  God."  I  know 
your  views,  and  the  views  of  your  Church,  too 
well,  not  to  comprehend  the  whole  sum  of  your 
anxieties.  Let  me  hasten,  then,  to  assure  you  oh 


178  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

my  behalf,  or,  at  least,  to  tell  you  explicitly  on 
what  ground  I  have  planted  my  feet. 

I  have  not  neglected  this  all-important  subject. 
Even  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  sat  in  the  old  church 
in  the  valley,  through  the  long,  interminable,  and 
incomprehensible  sermons  then  in  vogue,  I  used 
to  cogitate  most  seriously  over  the  grim  and  lurid 
dogmas  that  came,  smoking  and   seething,   as   it 
were,  from  the  awful  precincts  of  the  parish  pulpit. 
I  received  the  whole  message,  then,  as  infallibly 
correct.      Every  article  and  clause  of  the  creed 
were  sacred  in  my  sight.     I  really  supposed  myself 
in  hourly  peril  of  hell-fire,  on  account  of  that  mo 
mentary  weakness  in  Adam,  when  he  tasted  the 
fatal   pippin.      How  many  hours  have  I  silently 
lamented  that  hapless  transaction !     I  assure  you  it 
made  more  than  one  apple  as  bitter,  to  my  taste, 
as  though  it  had  been  roasted  in  Sodom.     I  tried, 
with  all  my  heart,  to  give  thanks,  on  Sundays,  for 
my  existence;  but  when  it  occurred  to  me  what 
sort  of  an  existence  it  was  for  which  I  was  affecting 
gratitude,  I  think  my  "hosannas"  must  have  "lan 
guished."     For  a  long  time,  as  I  well  remember, 
I  had  a  most  distressing  fear  of  the  devil;    and 
when,  after  much  effort,  I  had  come  to  consider 
myself  rather  pious,  I  made  sure  he  would  fall 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  179 

afoul   of   me   some   dark   niglit,   and   give   me   a 
terrible  shaking  for  having  deserted  liis  colors. 

o  o 

By  the  time  I  was  twelve  years  old,  I  had  made 
many  sincere  attempts  to  "obtain  a  new  heart," 
according  to  the  directions  of  the  church ;  though — 
to  confess  the  whole  truth — I  thought  my  natural 
heart  answered  very  well.  I  tried  to  perceive,  and 
acknowledge  to  myself,  the  utter  depravity  of  my 
nature;  but  I  found  it  impossible  to  understand 
how  I  could  be  so  desperately  wicked  as  our  the 
ology  represented.  The  church  boldly  charged 
me,  by  the  lips  of  the  minister,  with  being  u  wholly 
evil,  and  utterly  incapable  of  any  good;"  and  I 
plead  guilty  to  the  indictment — supposing  that 
the  church  must  know  a  great  deal  more  about  me 
than  I  could  possibly  know  about  myself;  and  was, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  cognizant  of  a  great  number 
of  terrible  misdemeanors  in  me,  of  which  I  had 
remained  unconscious. 

One  day,  after  I  had  saved  one  of  my  playmates 
from  drowning,  and  given  my  dinner  away  to  a 
blind  man,  I  walked  moodily  home,  thinking  over 
that  point  of  doctrine  which  declares  that  people. 
in  their  natural  state,  can  not  do  a  good  thing,  or 
please  God  in  any  way.  Was  it  true,  then,  that, 
in  neither  of  these  acts,  had  any  good  been  done  2 


180  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

Was  it  not  good  to  feed  the  hungry  and  preserve 
life,  even  though  one  might  not  have  been  "born 

again?" I  was  pondering  the  matter 

solemnly,  when,  all  at  once,  I  called  to  mind  that 
the  minister  had  said,  that  any  acts  of  morcy  done 
by  an  unregenerate  person,  so  far  from  being  reck 
oned  to  his  credit,  would  only  tend  to  plunge  him 
deeper  into  perdition !  I  stopped,  as  this  frightful 
recollection  occurred.  For  an  instant  I  was  posi 
tively  terrified.  I  reflected  as  well  as  I  could,  but 
I  only  reasoned  myself  into  a  bottomless  abyss  of 
ethical  and  metaphysical  contradictions.  At  last, 
a  hard,  reckless,  defiant  feeling  came  over  me, 

and, I  went  to  bed  that  night  without 

one  reverential  emotion. 


***** 
*         *         *         *         * 


I  offer  you  these  reminiscences  for  the  purpose 
of  showing  at  what  an  early  age  my  mind  was 
"exercised"  on  the  great  subject  to  which  your 
letter  refers.  These  confessions  will  also  serve  to 
explain  the  process  by  which  I  arrived  at  my  present 
views. 

When  I  was  about  fourteen,  an  event  occurred 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  181 

which  had  an  obvious  and  powerful  effect  on  my 
religious  convictions. 


Only  a  few  miles  from  Collmore  Hill,  lived  a 
dissolute  young  man  by  the  name  of  Beals.  Fas 
cinating  in  his  manners  as  he  was  licentious  in 
morals,  he  secured  the  confiding  affection  of  a 
young  girl,  living  in  one  of  the  neighboring  towns ; 
and,  after  having  brought  her  to  disgrace  under 
promise  of  marriage,  murdered  her  in  the  despe 
rate  hope  of  obliterating  his  offence.  It  was  a 
crime  that  thrilled  the  community  with  utmost 
horror,  and  kindled  against  the  libertine  and  mur 
derer  a  feeling  of  implacable  vengeance,  while  it 
moved  all  hearts  with  compassion  toward  his  frail 
and  hapless  victim.  Nothing  else  was  talked  of, 
for  many  weeks.  The  most  apathetic  natures  fired 
up  into  an  ecstasy  of  wrath,  as  they  dwelt  on  the 

doubly  damning  deed The  villain  was 

arrested;  and,  such  was  the  furious  excitement 
against  him,  that  it  was  only  with  the  utmost  firm 
ness  and  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  ministers 


182  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

of  the  law,  that  he  -was  preserved  from  popular 
vengeance. 

Boy  as  I  was,  I  remember  to  have  shared  the 
public  excitement,  in  a  very  strong  degree;  and 
when  one  day  at  school,  some  one  suggested  the 
propriety  of  sacking  the  jail  where  Beals  was  con 
fined,  and  stringing  him  up  between  heaven  and 
earth,  without  judicial  process, — -I  was  instantly 
as  eager  to  enlist  in  the  enterprise,  as  was  ever 
fervid  Crusader  to  march  against  the  Infidel. 

But  what  I  especially  desire  you  to  mark  in  this 
shocking  occurrence,  remains  yet  to  be  stated. 
According  to  the  doctrine  of  our  church,  the  poor 
girl — thus  suddenly  cut  off  from  life,  with  the 
stain  of  an  unhallowed  passion  on  her  soul — must 
be  damned  throughout  all  eternity.  True,  her 
reputation,  down  to  this  fatal  lapse,  had  been  irre 
proachable  ;  and  her  tender  devotion  to  her  aged 
parents  was  often  mentioned,  in  connection  with 
many  a  wromanly  excellence.  Even  this  solitary 
error  admitted  of  palliation,  since  it  was  more  a 
proof  of  self-sacrificing  affection  than  of  unmaid- 
enly  passion.  Still,  according  to  the  church,  she 
was  assuredly  damned.  Living  under  the  wrath 
and  curse  of  God — dying  without  an  opportunity 
for  repentance  —  there  being  "no  change  after 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  183 

death" — she  must  inevitably  suffer  the  black  banish 
ment  of  hell,  and  the  torment  that  admits  of  no 
mitigation  forever.  Men  might  feel  compassion 
for  her,  but  God  would  have  no  pity.  Her  doom 
must  be  as  dark  and  horrible  as  that  of  the  mis 
tresses  of  Nero,  or,  indeed,  of  the  most  depraved 
wretch  that  ever  passed  from  the  slough  of  vice 
into  a  hopeless  grave ! 


I  was  thinking  of  all  this,  gloomily  enough  — 
for  I  had  grown  familiar  with  all  the  merciless 
conditions  of  the  creed — when  another  appalling 
consideration  was  forced  upon  my  mind. 

Beals  had  been  tried,  convicted,  and  sentenced 
to  be  hung.  In  prison,  his  gallows  looming  ever 
above  him,  and  ever  approaching  nearer,  as  the 
solemn  hours  throbbed  against  his  heart — his 
whole  life,  moreover,  rising  up  in  judgment  against 
him — he  had  ample  leisure  for  repentance,  and 
inducements  enough,  God  knows,  to  make  his 
peace  with  heaven.  Nor  was  there  any  lack  of 
clerical  counsel,  admonition,  exhortation,  and  en 
couragement  in  the  cell  of  the  condemned.  Min 
isters,  who  appeared  to  reconcile  themselves  with 


184  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

marvellous  ease  to  the  damnation  of  the  woman — - 
seeing,  I  suppose,  that  that  was  past  remedy  — 
devoted  themselves  unremittingly  to  the  salvation 
of  her  murderer;  explaining  scripture,  and  apply 
ing  it  to  his  case  —  moving  his  vicious  heart  by 
craven  terrors  —  stimulating  his  feeble  soul  with 
glimmerings  of  hope,  and  trying  divers  processes 
for  renovating  his  polluted  life. 

At  length  his  radical  conversion  was  announced. 
He  was  become  evangelically  penitent.  He  had 
sung  psalms  in  his  cell — had  prayed  for  hours, 
with  the  eloquence  of  assured  hope,  and  talked  of 
his  approaching  execution  as  a  happy  release  from 
the  snares  of  the  world  to  the  joys  of  certain  saint- 
ship.  The  ministers  who  had  been  instrumental 
in  his  conversion,  were  jubilant  over  their  success. 
They  seemed  to  have  utterly  forgotten  his  atro 
cious  and  cowardly  crime,  in  their  admiration  of 
his  penitence,  and  of  his  bright  spiritual  assurance 
They  were  never  weary  of  exalting  him  as  a  mon 
ument  of  redeeming  grace. 

In  due  time,  Beals  expiated  his  crimes  on  the 
scaffold.  I  care  not  to  speculate  on  the  question 
whether  his  conversion  was  genuine  or  not;  the 
church,  by  the  mouth  of  its  oracles,  pronounced 
it  sound ;  and  there  was  no  person  of  unimpeach 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  185 

able  orthodoxy,  who  did  not  believe  that  the  late 
criminal  swung  straight  into  heaven.  Indeed,  in 
the  long  address  which  this  inscrutable  saint  made 
on  the  scaffold,  he  evinced  such  confidence  in  his 
divine  acceptance,  and  admonished  the  young  men 
in  such  a  strain  of  authority,  that  his  situation 
must  have  seemed  really  enviable ;  and  I  question 
whether  it  did  not  occur  to  more  than  one  of  his 
auditors,  that  the  only  means  of  obtaining  such 
preeminent  spiritual  security,  was  to  pursue  the 
same  career  which  had  proved  so  fortunate  for  him. 
But  mark  the  revolting  mystery  which  the 
church  brought  to  view,  in  its  decisions  concerning 
the  spiritual  destiny  of  these  individuals.  The  fair 
young  victim  of  consummate  villainy — guilty  only 
of  momentary  weakness,  and  having  a  lifetime 
of  excellence  to  redeem  that  solitary  error — 
must  be  driven  into  the  realm  of  eternal  horror  and 
desolation.  The  seducer  and  murderer — the  author 
both  of  her  error  and  her  damnation  —  whose  whole 
life  was  composed  of  selfishness  and  infamy,  and 
whose  solitary  merit — questionable  enough  —  con 
sisted  of  a  few  hours  of  penitence,  induced  by  the 
certainty  of  immediate  death  and  the  prospect  of 
hell-fire — this  wretch  goes  safe  and  self-assured  to 
heaven ! 


186  THE    TAXGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

Such  is  the  justice  which  the  Infinite  Father 
metes  out  to  his  children,  according  to  the  church's 
exposition  of  his  economy!  You,  my  beloved 
Aunt,  accept  such  statements,  and  pretend  to  love 
the  Being  about  whom  they  can  fairly  be  made ! 
I  have  cast  the  blasphemous  error  under  my  feet, 
long  since;  otherwise,  I  had  been  without  hope 
and  without  God  in  the  world. 


I  have  crossed  out  some  vehement  language 
which  I  had  written  here — not  wishing  to  disturb 
the  order  of  my  narrative  by  anticipating  emotions 
that  belong  to  a  later  stage  of  my  experience,  and 
being  equally  unwilling  to  shock  your  mind  by  the 
expression  of  sentiments,  whose  source  you  may 
not  clearly  perceive. 

As  I  grew  older — in  spite  of  tolerably  good 
intentions,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  know  the  truth  — 
I  found  my  nature  hardening,  and  my  faith  in  the 
church  dogmas  growing  weaker  every  day.  I 
despaired  of  ever  comprehending  the  mazy  in 
tricacies  of  Theology,  and  of  ever  obtaining  an 
assurance  of  salvation  by  the  means  which  it 
prescribed.  I  tried  to  ignore  the  matter  altogether, 
and  partially  succeeded.  Though  not  entirely  free 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        187 

from  anxiety,  and  secretly  exasperated,  now  and 
then,  by  some  cunning  puzzles  that  occurred  in 
the  sermons;  my  mind  was  attaining  more  vigor, 
my  reason  more  independence,  and  I  was,  in 
various  respects,  better  qualified  to  contend  with 
the  difficulties  that  beset  me.  The  core  of  Adam's 
apple  certainly  troubled  me  less,  and  my  fear  of 
the  devil  was  rapidly  subsiding ;  for,  to  be  perfectly 
candid  with  you,  the  Almighty  himself  looked  so 
terrible  to  me,  that  I  thought  I  could  not  be  in 
worse  hands,  even  if  the  devil  should  carry  me 
bodily  off,  like  a  kidnapped  fugitive. 

Thus  I  was  gradually  working  clear  of  your 
Theology  —  like  a  poor,  affrighted  child  stealing 
away  from  a  slumbering  dragon — when  the  vin 
dictive  horror  awoke,  and  inflicted  a  wound  I  shall 
carry  to  my  grave. 

Momentous  as  was  the  event  to  which  I  allude, 
I  shall  give  it  but  a  passing  notice,  for  it  laid  my 
domestic  peace  in  the  dust,  and  opened  a  fountain 
of  woe  that  has  embittered  years  of  my  existence. 
Of  course,  it  is  painful  to  recall  it.  You  know  so 
little  of  the  early  part  of  my  life,  however,  and 
especially  of  my  mental  experience,  that  I  must 
show  you  the  grim  outlines  of  the  calamity. 


188  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

You  are  aware,  perhaps,  that  I  married  young. 
But  you  can  not  have  known  the  celestial  treasure 
I  received  in  the  person  of  my  wife.  I  can  not 
describe  her.  Language  fails  me  when  I  attempt 
to  portray  my  inward  sense  of  her  excellence.  It 
is  enough  that  she  answered  the  utmost  longing  of 
my  heart,  for  earthly  companionship,  sympathy 
and  affection.  With  her  to  share  the  world's 
favors,  and  to  solace  its  rigors,  life  promised  a  suc 
cession  of  experiences,  if  not  uniformly  happy,  at 
least  always  blessed. 


Less  than  a  year  after  our  marriage,  one  of  those 
fanatical  excitements,  called  revivals  of  religion, 
occurred  at  the  quiet  old  church  near  Collmore 
Hill.  It  was  the  first  of  those  periodical  inunda 
tions  of  religious  fury,  which,  for  many  years,  con 
tinued  to  roll  over  our  country,  with  the  regularity 
of  ihe  seasons  and  the  fatal  effects  of  the  simoom. 
You  are  too  familiar  with  the  operations  of  these 
excitements,  to  require  of  me  any  description  of 
them.  This 'one  came  upon  the  secluded  little 
community  in  which  we  dwelt,  like  a  tornado 
bursting  upon  a  group  of  ships,  becalmed  in  some 
lagoon  of  the  tropics.  To  all  its  inherent  elements 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTEES.  189 

of  terror,  was  superadded  the  circumstance  of  its 
entire  novelty.  It  sounded  an  alarm  to  most 
hearts,  second  only  to  that  which  the  archangel's 
trumpet  might  awake,  summoning  mankind  before 
a  retributive  judgment-seat. 

In  the  same  old  church,  where  I  had  sat  since 
early  childhood — where  I  had  experienced  so  many 
hours  of  mental  perplexity  and  religious  fear  — 
struggling  in  the  meshes  of  Theology,  like  an 
affrighted  bird  caught  in  the  net  of  the  fowler;  — 
there  sat  my  sweet  wife,  pressing  to  my  side  in 
very  consternation,  quivering  like  the  dove  that 
sees  black  death  at  hand — the  murderous  shafts  of 
error  piercing  her  sensitive  soul  to  the  quick,  and 
pervading  every  sensation  with  pain  and  horror. 

Keckless  fool !  that  I  afterward  deemed  myself. 
Yet  I  saw  not  the  danger,  until  the  poison  had 
entered  her  heart.  So  good,  so  innocent,  so  tender, 
so  beautiful,  I  trusted  that  even  Theology  must 
relent  in  her  presence,  and  ignore  some  attributes 
of  its  inherent  ferocity.  I  knew  not  then,  what  I 
have  since  observed,  that  such  are  the  sacrifices 
Religious  Error  craves— that,  like  the  bloody  gods 
of  Pagan  antiquity,  whose  fastidious  appetites 
demanded  the  fairest  victims,  it  passes  by  the 
coarse,  the  selfish,  and  the  vile,  and  makes  choice 


190  THE    TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

of  one   whose   innocence   is  without  spot,  whose 
beauty  is  without  blemish. 

O,  with  what  frantic  effort  I  struggled  to  save 
her !  In  vain — in  vain.  Once  impressed  with  the 
fatal  magnetism  of  the  place,  she  was  like  one 
bound  by  a  spell.  Nothing  but  brute  force  could 
withdraw  her  feet  from  the  deadly  snare ;  and  even 
then,  she  heard,  in  her  vivid  fancy,  the  preacher's 
voice,  that  spoke  her  doom,  and  the  doom  of  .all 
she  loved  dearest  here  below. 

She  might  have  obtained  assurance,' perhaps,  of 
her  own  spiritual  safety,  had  she  been  selfish 
enough  to  have  sought  her  personal  welfare  alone ; 
but  a  salvation  that  refused  to  encompass  her 
beloved  only  tantalized  and  insulted  her  generous 
nature,  and  she  would  have  preferred  the  lower 
most  waste  of  hell,  in  the  society  of  those  to  whom 
her  heart  was  bound,  to  the  most  exalted  seat  in 
the  Divine  Coliseum,  if  she  must  look  on  the 
bloody  wreck  and  throbbing  anguish  of  the  Infernal 
Arena. 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  191 

Of  my  salvation,  the  conditions  of  the  Church 
did  not  permit  her  to  hope.     In  fact,  my  nature 
had  grown  callous  under  the  continual  friction  of 
dogmas  that  perplexed  my  reason  and  insulted  my 
moral  sense;   and  the  effect  of  all  their  frenzied 
declamation  and  pathetic  entreaties,  was  only  to 
precipitate  me  further  into  the  abyss  of  doubt  and 
irreligion.     What,  for  instance,  could  any  sane  man 
make   of  the  exhortation  to  repentance,  when  he 
was  told,  in  the  very  same  breath,  that  he  could 
not  take  the  first  step  toward  salvation  until  it 
should  please  God  to  give  him  a  supernatural  im 
pulse  in  that  direction  ?     It  was  like  entreating  a 
captive  to  flee  from  a  burning  prison,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  reminding  him  that  he  can  not  stir  until 
his  keeper  shall  come  and  sever  his  chain.     I  had 
been  so  often  perplexed,  revolted,  and  exasperated 
by  this  outrageous  method  of  presenting  the  case, 
that  there  no  longer  remained  a  probability  of  my 
being  won  by  grace  so  inscrutable  in  its  operations. 
Aside  from  my  own  dubious  prospects,  the  ten 
der  heart  of  my  wife  brooded  over  the  fate  of  a 
brother — a  brave,   chivalrous,  roving   boy — who 
had  rode  the  wraves  of  ocean  for  many  thousand 
leagues,  and  now  slept  below  the  shifting  tides  — 
his  hale  face,  with  its  wreath  of  curling  hair,  and 


192  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

eyes  that  sparkled jwith  the  very  light  of  heroism, 
forever  hidden  from  sun  and  stars.     Had  that  gal 
lant  young  spirit  drifted  down  to  hell  ?     Was  that 
manly  heart,  that  never  sheltered  an  emotion  of 
selfishness,  or  admitted  a  mean  passion,  now  heav 
ing  in  hopeless  torment?     Were  the  errors  of  his 
undeveloped  youth — errors  that  sprung  from  the 
very  effervescence  of  his  vital  and  affluent  nature, 
and  doubtless  bore  with  them  some  essence  of  vir 
tue  itself — so  heinous  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  to 
call  down  a  retribution  without  mercy  and  without 
end?     All  this,  the  Church  affirmed  with  terrible 
emphasis;  and  can  you  be  surprised  when  I  tell 
you  that  my  sensitive  companion  grew  desperate 
and  crazed  at  the  thought  ?     Was  it  a  bad  spirit, 
or  a  good  one,  that  made  her  feel  in  her  heart,  that 
she  had  rather  wander  in  the  lowermost  waste  of 
hell,  with  husband  and  brother  by  her  side,  than 
take  the  most  exalted  seat  in  the  Celestial  Coli 
seum,  if  she  must  look  on  the  bloody  wreck  and 
throbbing  anguish  of  the  Infernal  Arena? 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  193 

I  am  dwelling  upon  this  dreadful  experience 
longer  than  I  had  designed.  Let  me  hasten  to 
describe  its  tragic  consummation. 

The  storm  of  fanaticism  at  length  passed  away; 
and  I  cherished  some  faint  hope  that  my  wife 
might  recover — in  part  at  least — her  former  seren 
ity  of  mind.  I  knew  that  her  soul  was  profoundly 
convulsed,  but  I  trusted  that,  in  the  long  tranquil 
summer  of  youth  yet  before  her,  the  turbulent  sen 
sations  might  subside,  the  blinding  vapors  exhale, 
and  a  ripple  of  soft  melody  yet  sound  through  the 
pensive  years.  I  knew  not  then — what  I  after 
ward  ascertained  with  such  a  thrill  of  horror — 
that  this  gentle  creature  had  already  conceived  a 
terrible  resolution,  which  she  nourished  through 
many  a  dreary  month,  and  at  last  executed  with  a 
crazed  and  conscientious  heroism  that  language 
can  not  describe. 

You  are  a  wToman,  and  your  heart  will  thrill  at 
the  secret  I  disclose.  My  beloved  had  formed  the 
solemn  resolve,  never  to  survive  to  bring  into  the 
world  a  human  soul,  under  the  awful  liabilities  in 
which  she  supposed  mankind  to  exist !  She  would 
never  become  instrumental  in  raising  up  one  human 
life,  to  enter  upon  an  existence  cursed  of  God,  and 
likely  to  be  consummated  in  eternal  woe !  0,  you 


194  THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

who  have  known  the  joys  of  maternity,  whose 
homes  blossom  with  the  beauty  of  little  children — 
flowers  and  pledges  of  generous  nature  and  a  cher 
ishing  God — lend  me  the  light  of  all  your  happi 
ness  that  I  may  expose  the  appalling  deformity  of 
Keligious  Error,  and  the  impetus  of  all  your  house 
hold  sympathies  that  I  may  curse  its  infernal 
cruelty  ? 

My  impending  bereavement  was  hidden  from 
me  to  the  last.  ....  But,  one  dreadful  evening, 
as  I  returned  from  a  few  hours'  absence, — as  I 
entered  the  home  that  might  have  been  so  blessed — 
the  bolt  fell,  wiJi  a  crash  that  appeared  to  shake 

the  world My  poor  old  mother  met  me  in 

the  hall,  where  Aurora  was  wont  to  welcome  me, 
....  but  why  go  on?  ....  I  staggered  to  the 
death-cold  chamber ;  ....  0  marble  paleness  of 
beauty  that  smote  my  sight!  ....".  In  a  few 
months  more — in  place  of  that  stagnant,  ghastly 
death — there  might  have  been  the  winsome  cry 
of  a  new  life ;  and  a  growth  of  luxuriant  verdure 
might  have  adorned  and  supported  the  withered 
trunk  of  old  age. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  195 

And  there,  by  her  side,  I  found  her  last  words 
written  and  sealed.  The  little  package  told  me 
all.  The  record  of  her  soul's  travail  was  there  — 
of  her  affection  for  me,  that  made  death  so  awful — 
of  her  forbearing  tenderness  toward  the  unborn, 
that  made  her  sacrifice  but  a  dutiful  mercy.  Dark 
shades  of  the  Almighty  wrath  were  on  that  paper, 

and  lurid  gleams,  too,  from  the  fabled  pit 

It  had  been  written  at  painful  intervals — coined 
out  of  her  devoted  heart — blotted  with  ample 
tears.  O  God!  did  ever  husband  receive  such 
tidings  from  his  beloved? 

We  laid  the  poor  afflicted  body  in  its  solitary 
couch,  on  the  garden-border,  where  the  trees  mur 
mur  so  sweetly  in  summer,  and  where  the  earliest 
birds  sound  the  prelude  of  the  spring.  In  after 
years,  when  Faith  had  come  to  me  with  its  recon 
ciling  beam,  I  bent  my  knees  beside  that  sacred 
enclosure,  and  thanked  God  for  the  assurance  that 
her  soul  had  emerged  as  bright  into  the  trailing 
glory  of  his  high  Purpose,  as  the  queenliest  star 
that  climbs  the  milky  way. 

But  the  dread  secret  of  her  death  we  shut  in 
our  hearts,  deeming  it  too  precious  for  the  public 
gaze — too  sacred  for  vulgar  judgment. 


196  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

Is  it  surprising  that,  from  the  experience  just 
narrated,  I  went  forth  into  the  world  an  infidel  and 
a  vagabond  ?  Do  you  marvel  that  every  reveren 
tial  and  confiding  thought  of  God  departed  from 
me — that  every  religious  emotion  exhaled  into  the 
dreary  night,  whose  smothering  blackness  settled 
over  my  spirit,  without  star  or  token?  Ah,  those 
were  years  of  absolute  bereavement,  having  all  the 
anguish  of  grief,  without  its  sanctifying  allevia 
tions  !  To  walk  the  earth  in  the  ever-present  con 
sciousness  of  an  affliction  greater  than  you  can 
bear — to  doubt  if  there  be  a  God  in  heaven,  and 
to  experience  a  beggarly  satisfaction  in  the  idea 
that  there  is  not — since,  in  that  case,  you  can 
charge  your  calamity  upon  nothing  but  the  old 
heathen  Fate — to  fling  your  orphan  soul  on  the 
waste  of  eternity,  and  hear  no  response  to  its  cries 
in  all  the  silent  spaces  of  the  Universe — to  watch 
the  imposing  procession  of  the  year,  and  witness 
nature's  perpetual  miracle  in  the  process  of  the 
seasons,  and  yet  obtain  no  symbol  of  the  renova 
tion  of  those  bright  children  of  the  resurrection, 
whom  Time  and  Death  have  withered  and  wafted 
from  your  sight:  this  is  part  of  your  doom,  who 
dwell  amid  the  mutabilities  of  existence  without 
God  and  without  Hope ! 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        197 

In  the  pit  which  Theology  had  dug  for  me,  I 
groped  and  sorrowed  for  five  barren  years,  when 
it  pleased  God  to  impart  his  truth  to  my  under 
standing,  and  to  give  peace  to  my  troubled  heart. 

In  the  course  of  a  journey  to  the  south  — 
whither  I  had  been  summoned  to  transact  import 
ant  business — I  stopped  one  evening  at  a  small 
village,  on  the  northern  frontier  of  Pennsylvania. 
After  having  dispatched  supper,  and  ascertained 
that  most  of  the  guests  at  the  tavern  were  too 
much  in  liquor  to  yield  me  any  society,  I  strolled 
forth  into  the  village,  in  that  listless  mood  which 
takes  hold  of  objects  at  random,  and  is  altogether 
capricious  in  its  interest.  I  presently  found  my 
self  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  very  humble 
church,  where,  it  seemed,  service  was  in  the  act  of 
being  held.  Now,  I  had  not  been  within  the  walls 
of  a  church  since  my  bereavement,  and  never 
expected  to  participate  in  the  sacred  service  more. 
But  an  inward  impulse — as  unaccountable  as  it 
was  powerful — inclined  me  to  enter  this  place  of 
prayer.  I  resisted  the  feeling  for  some  time,  and 
even  walked  a  considerable  distance  past  the 
building.  But  the  sound  of  an  anthem,  breathed 
out  upon  the  air  from  the  according  voices  of  many 
worshippers,  came  to  my  ear  with  such  persuasiv 


198        THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

power,  that  I  retraced  my  steps  and  entered  the 
church. 

That  act  resulted  in  my  redemption.  For  there 
I  heard  a  new  exposition  of  the  Divine  Economy, 
and  obtained  a  new  conception  of  human  life.  I 
found  that  the  puzzling  incongruities  of  your  The 
ology,  were  but  an  imbecile  legacy  from  the 
abstruse  schoolmen ;  and  that  its  malignant  tem 
per  came  of  the  infernal  corruptions  of  the  Chris 
tian  scheme,  which  were  consummated  in  the  labor 
atory  of  Romanism.  I  found  that  the  God  whom 
the  church  professes  to  revere,  was  the  atrocious 
embodiment  of  sacerdotal  tyranny  and  Scandinavian 
barbarity,  fostered  by  universal  superstition,  and 
perfected  under  the  haggard  glooms  of  the  Medi 
aeval  world. 

Penetrating  the  complicated  upholstery  of  the 
Papacy,  with  which  vast  sections  of  the  Protestant 
as  well  as  the  Catholic  edifice  is  furnished,  I  dis 
cerned  the  lineaments  of  that  primitive  Chris 
tianity,  which  appeared  as  the  expression  of 
Infinite  Wisdom — the  Ministry  of  Reconciliation — 
the  glory  of  the  whole  Earth.  I  saw  the  Univer 
sal  Father,  as  Christ  of  Nazareth  revealed  him — 
complete  in  every  attribute  that  wins  the  heart 
and  gives  the  mind  assurance — a  Godhead  perfect 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  .        199 

in  Affection,  in  Wisdom,  and  in  Power.  And  I 
saw  that  our  multiform  yet  equal  Humanity  — 
budding  into  life  under  the  breath  of  this  benignant 
Power — must  exist  from  a  perfect  Motive  and 
tend  toward  a  blessed  Destiny;  and  I  felt  that 
every  treasure,  hope,  and  aspiration  of  every  hu 
man  creature  must  be  precious  to  the  heart  of  God, 
and  that  every  life  must  issue  from  the  crucible  of 
his  Providence  redeemed  from  all  its  dross,  with 
all  its  powers  perfected,  with  all  its  desires  ful 
filled,  and  set  as  a  jewel  in  the  diadem  of  his 
untarnished  glory. 

This  is  my  faith.  I  do  not  now  propose  to  un 
fold  its  evidences :  I  only  wish  to  show  you  the 
Rock  upon  which  I  stand.  You  will  have  seen 
that  I  am  no  stranger  to  that  momentous  problem 
to  which  your  anxieties  point.  My  soul  has  expe 
rienced  its  conflict,  and  secured  its  victory — has 
been  wildly  tossed  by  calamitous  affliction,  but  has 
now  entered  into  rest.  I  know  that  nothing  can 
harm  me  more,  while  I  faithfully  obey  the  light  I 
have  received. 


200  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

In  closing,  you  will  allow  me  a  few  more  words 
touching  the  church  from  which  I  have  departed. 

I  have  already  remarked  with  sufficient  plainness 
upon  the  inconsistencies  and  cruelty  of  your  theol 
ogy.  I  desire  to  say,  furthermore,  that  the  church 
avowing  such  a  theology  must  be  essentially  a 
school  of  selfishness.  The  Deity  you  worship  is  sel 
fish  to  the  core  of  his  nature  —  creating  men  solely 
for  his  pleasure,  without  reference  to  their  welfare ; 
governing  them  by  a  succession  of  caprices,  rather 
than  by  any  uniform  principle ;  and  finally  sending 
part  of  them  into  torment,  in  order  to  make  a  dis 
play  of  his  sanguinary  omnipotence,  and  satiate  an 
inherent  ferocity.  Of  course,  in  so  far  as  men 
accept  this  Being  as  their  Model — aspiring  toward 
him  as  their  highest  spiritual  Ideal  —  selfishness 
will  become  the  central  quality  and  main  spring  of 
their  character;  and  their  rule  of  conduct  will  be 
that  everything  must  be  sacrificed  to  their  own 
desires,  caprices,  and  private  advantage. 

Indeed,  the  very  first  word  your  church  addresses 
to  impenitent  men,  is  an  appeal  to  their  selfishness. 
In  exhorting  them  to  save  their  souls  from  the 
eternal  vengeance,  you  not  only  address  the  basest 
feeling  in  human  nature,  but  you  make  their  per 
sonal  interest  the  ruling  motive  which  is  to  actuate 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  201 

them  in  their  reformation!  Can  you  expect  to 
form  men  into  truly  noble  characters,  by  filling 
their  souls  with  fearful  solicitude  about  their  per 
sonal  security?  Is  riot  magnanimity,  or  the  dispo 
sition  of  self-sacrifice,  the  very  heart  and  substance 
of  the  Christian  Life,  as  Christ  has  exemplified  it  ? 
And  you,  with  all  the  devotees  of  your  church,  are 
hoping  to  foster  such  lives  throughout  the  world 
of  mankind,  by  appealing  to  whatever  selfishness 
there  is  in  them, —  by  continually  stimulating  self- 
interest  with  alternate  hopes  and  fears,  and  by 
holding  out  stupendous  personal  considerations  as 
the  motive  power  of  all  their  endeavors ! 


....  Alas !  my  dear  aunt,  do  you  not  see  that 
the  morality  of  your  theology  is  as  revolting  as  its 
bodily  lineaments?  ....  Is  it  possible  that  you 
have  ever  looked  at  it  with  the  discriminating  can 
dor  you  are  accustomed  to  exercise  when  surveying 
objects  that  are  not  obscured  by  any  haze  of  imag 
inary  sacredness?  My  very  great  respect  for  you 
forbids  me  to  think  that  you  can  ever  have 
become  conscious  of  the  enormities  of  the  faith 

to  which  you  profess  devotion ;  for  how  can  the 
9* 


202  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

affectionate  wife  and  tender  mother — such  as  you 
are  proved  to  be — acquiesce  in  the  horrible  in 
humanities  of  the  popular  creed,  after  having 
distinctly  beheld  and  realized  them? 

I  am  the  more  persuaded  that  you  have  not 
realized  the  badness  of  your  theology,  by  the  fact 
that  it  gives  you  so  little  comparative  uneasiness. 
True,  you  express  a  generous  concern  for  my  spir 
itual  condition ;  but  can  you  need  to  be  reminded 
that  you  have  sons  and  daughters,  living  at  an  age 
when  temptation  is  most  potent  and  most  fatal — 
when  the  allurements  of  the  world  are  all  but  irre 
sistible,  and  exuberant  passion  is  prone  to  set  all 
the  terrors  of  the  church  at  defiance?  Your  appa 
rent  unconcern  for  the  spiritual  fortunes  of  those 
so  near  and  dear  to  you,  leads  me  to  think  that 
your  faith  may  be  a  mere  traditional  assent,  rather 

than  a  conscious  verity It  is  so  with  most 

of  those  who  profess  adherence  to  the  popular 
faith.  They  are  incredibly  comfortable  under  the 
frightful  possibilities  which  the  church  reveals. 
They  barter  and  seek  pleasure  on  the  verge  of 
hell-fire,  and  drop  into  peaceful  slumber  while  the 
pulpit  is  uttering  the  premonitory  note  of  the 
judgment  trump ! 

Do  these  signs  indicate  that  your  merciless  the- 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  203 

ology  is  becoming  effete  ?  That  its  once  lusty 
terrors,  like  the  bugbears  of  our  childhood,  have 
ceased  to  alarm  the  self-relying  reason  and  medita 
tive  heart  of  our  maturer  humanity  ?  And  that  a 
better  dispensation — even  that  of  perfect  love  and 
harmonious  truth — is  about  to  reconcile  and  glorify 
the  world?  This  is  my  trust;  and,"in  the  tranquil 
peace  which  it  sheds  over  my  heart,  and  in  the 
auroral  light  with  which  it  invests  all  the  works 
of  God,  I  bid  you  an  affectionate  adieu. 


204  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 


LETTER    TWENTY-THIRD. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  TRAP  CONFESSES  TO  HAVING  VISITED  AMELIA 
AGAIN,  AND  DESCRIBES  HER  LAST  INTERVIEW  WITH  CHAT- 
TERTON. 

A  FEW  days  since,  being  in  the  City,  I  could  do 
no  less  than  ride  up  to  the  palace  and  see  Amelia. 
A  note  from  her  hand  received  the  preceding  week, 
had  prepared  me  to  find  her  in  reduced  health ;  but 
I  was  not  prepared  for  the  wasted  and  haggard 
image  that  met  me  in  her  once  beautiful  person ! 

Ah,  Frank,  you  would  not  have  recognized  her! 
The  form  that  adorns  your  chamber  of  imagery  — 
the  high  and  regal  presence  that  stands  in  its  glory, 
in  the  far  perspective  of  memory — the  magnificent 
charms  that  kindled  an  hundred  hearts,  that  fatal 
summer,  on  the  silver  beach  of  Lynn — you  would 
look  in  vain  for  these  in  the  dead-hearted,  hopeless 
victim,  immured  from  humanity  and  from  God,  in 
Belshazzar's  Golden  Cage. 

I  have  mourned  at  what  are  called  untimely 
deaths — I  have  murmured  when  some  fair  girl  — 
budding  into  womanly  grace,  and  ripening  for  the 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  205 

sweet  offices  appointed  her  by  the  Creator — has 
been  snatched  away  as  by  envious  and  arbitrary 
Fate;  I  have  thought  gloomily  on  the  Providence 
that  has  left  the  Widow  to  her  weeds,  and  mingled 
the  cup  of  the  Orphan  with  wrong ;  I  have,  in  my 
impatience,  questioned  the  decree  that  removed 
Manhood  in  its  vigor,  and  Virtue  in  its  successful 
conflict,  from  a  race  that  lean  so  dependently  upon 
both.  But  in  Amelia  I  see  one  of  the  anomalies 
of  UNTIMELY  LIFE,  —  an  existence  organized  in  a 
world  for  which  it  has  no  sympathy —  a  lifeless  soul, 
a  palsied  conscience  in  a  living  body  —  a  paralysis 
of  hope  and  ambition  and  desire!  Surely,  those 
who  live  without  an  object,  a  desire,  or  an  affection, 
have  quite  as  inscrutable  a  fate,  as  those  who  die 
amid  the  blossoms  of  promise,  or  in  the  crisis  of 
conflict. 

Amelia,  at  first,  forebore  all  reference  to  the 
exciting  events  which  had  occurred  a  few  months 
before,  but  did  not  effect  to  hide  the  misery  that  is 
surely  wearing  away  her  life. 

At  five  o'clock,  which  is  the  dinner  hour  at  the 
palace,  Belshazzar  came  in  from  the  City.  He 
greeted  me  in  no  very  cordial  style  ;  but  I  had  long 
since  accustomed  myself  to  the  incivilities  of  my 
Israelite,  and  was  not  at  all  disconcerted  by  his 


206  THE   TANGLETOWN  LETTEES. 

manners.  Still,  after  we  had  taken  seats  at  the 
table,  it  struck  me  that  there  was  an  excess  of  ex 
citement  about  the  man,  which  indicated  a  far  more 
serious  irritation  than  my  humble  presence  could 
occasion.  His  movements  were  abrupt  and  tremu 
lous;  a  fitful  ferocity  darted  from  his  cold,  suspi 
cious  eyes;  and  he  stole  occasional  glances  at 
Amelia,  the  import  of  which  by  no  means  pleased 
me.  I  had  noticed,  too,  that  one  of  his  arms  was 
bandaged,  and  that  a  recent  scratch  was  scored 
upon  his  face ;  and  the  more  I  thought  upon  the 
matter,  the  more  probable  it  seemed  to  me  that  an 
explanation  he  had  given  of  these  injuries  was  not 
the  true  one — that  they  really  betokened  something 
more  serious  than  had  appeared. 

Nor  was  Amelia  unobservant  of  these  appear 
ances.  I  saw  that  she  scrutinized  her  husband 
with  an  anxious  brow,  while  she  more  than  once 
placed  her  hand  upon  her  heart  as  if  to  stifle  sud 
den  pain.  All  in  all,  as  you  may  imagine,  it  was 
a  dreary  and  troubled  meal. 

We  had  no  soonof  risen  from  the  table,  than 
Belshazzar  abruptly  withdrew,  and  I  thanked  my 
stars  that  he  had  not  lingered;  for,  scarcely  had  he 
passed  the  outer  border  of  the  park,  when  a  note 
was  placed  in  Amelia's  hand.  She  recognized  the 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  207 

hand-writing  at  a  glance.  It  apparently  stirred 
the  deepest  emotions.  Her  face  and  neck  were 
instantly  suffused  —  as  I  had  seen  them  once 
before  —  and  her  whole  frame  grew  tremulous. 

Suddenly  she  stood  up,  and,  making  a  strong 
effort  to  command  herself,  approached  me  and  said : 

"Mr.  Trap,  I  bless  God  that  you  are  here.  I 
need  not  shrink  from  reposing  any  confidence  in 
you.  This  note  is  from  Chatterton!  They  have 
met  to-day,  and  violence  has  been  employed' 
Thank  heaven  it  resulted  no  worse !  " 

"  Thank  heaven  !  "  repeated  I. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  do  that  for  which  you  may 
condemn  me,"  resumed  Amelia,  "  and  I  ask  your 
cooperation.  Chatterton  will  be  at  the  foot  of  the 
terrace,  at  twilight;  and  he  entreats  me  to  meet 
him  there.  He  was  once  my  esteemed  friend,  and 
for  the  sake  of  the  feeling  I  once  had  for  him — " 

she  paused,  and,  with  difficulty,  suppressed  a  sob  — 
"I  shall  grant  his  request;  especially  as  you  will 
witness  the  interview.  He  has  important  explana 
tions  to  make ;  and  it  will  be  the  last  time  we  shall 
ever  meet,  in  this  world." 

Saying  which,  she  sank  to  the  ground,  and  wept 
without  restraint. 

Whatever    objections   I  may  have   felt  to   this 


208  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

interview — and  I  acknowledge  I  was  not  at  peace 
with  myself  concerning  it — it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  oppose  a  purpose  thus  supported. 


Just  as  the  twilight  began  to  gather,  I  supported 
Amelia  down  the  terrace,  which — as  I  have  before 
observed — extends  quite  to  the  river  itself. 

It  was  one  of  those  chill  March  evenings,  wThen 
the  atmosphere  oppresses  the  most  buoyant  spirits. 
The  water  murmured  hoarse  and  drear  on  the 
naked  shore,  and  a  sense  of  desolation  pervaded 
every  object  that  met  the  eye. 

The  sound  of  oars  broke  the  monotony  of  the 
sobbing  tide,  and  a  boat  grated  upon  the  sand,  in  a 
sheltered  spot,  just  as  we  reached  the  extremity 
of  the  terrace.  I  had  scarcely  time  to  retire  a  few 
yards  from  the  scene,  when  Chatterton  threw  him 
self  at  the  feet  of  Amelia,  in  a  passion  of  thankful 
ness,  repentance,  affection,  and  despair. 

Oh,  human  love!  how  blessed  thou  art,  when 
sanctified  of  God,  and  experienced  in  the  hallowed 
smile  of  virtue.  But  all  the  fiends  are  merciful 
compared  with  thy  retributive  curse,  when  thou 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTEES.  209 

art  evoked  in  the  bosom  of  Guilt,  or  called  to  break 
the  sacred  sanction  that  guards  the  meanest  home  ! 


It  was  over,  at  length.  I  bore  the  sobbing 
woman  from  the  spot.  What  a  burden  of  human 
wretchedness  it  was !  Twice  she  stopped ;  and, 
leaning  tremulously  on  my  arm,  looked  back 
through  the  barren  branches  that  lined  the  walk, 
to  where  the  motionless  figure  of  Chatterton  stood 
on  the  dreary  beach,  like  a  wreck  of  Fate,  leffc 
there  to  petrify  in  cold  and  darkness.  Twice, 
some  irresistible  impulse  seemed  to  possess  her, 
and  she  appeared  in  the  very  act  of  rushing  back 
to  comfort  him,  or  share  his  doom.  Twice,  she 
murmured,  as  from  the  very  depths  of  her  breaking 
heart,  —  "Never  again! — never  again  on  earth  to 
meet  him,  or  see  his  face,  or  hear  him  speak  my 
name !  Oh,  Grod !  and  must  I  thank  Thee  for  such 
a  life?" 


Before  I  left  the  palace,  Amelia  placed  an  old 
portfolio  in  my  hand,  that  I  might  see,  she  said, 
how  she  had  amused  some  of  her  lonely  hours. 


210  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

I  find  it  to  contain  isolated  reflections — mostly 
of  a  sombre  cast — and  a  few  fugitive  sketches  of 
Society,  mainly  in  an  unfinished  state. 

There  is  one  paper,  however,  that  appears  to  be 
complete ;  and,  embodying  as  it  does  a  good  deal 
of  caustic  satire  on  the  genteel  society  in  which  it 
has  been  her  lot  to  move,  has  a  peculiar  interest 
for  all  who  have  known  her.  Being  confident  that 
its  perusal  will  gratify  you,  I  herewith  enclose  it. 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  211 


THE  ENTERPRISING  EDITOR 

BEGS  leave  to  interpose  a  page  of  his  own,  at  this 
juncture,  for  the  purpose  of  endowing  his  reader 
with  the  following  opinion:  The  tale  here  ascribed 
to  Amelia — though  for  the  most  part  narrated  with 
more  sparkling  vivacity  than  Mr.  Trap  has  exhib 
ited  in  his  acknowledged  writings — bears,  never 
theless,  strong  "internal  evidence"  of  having  been 
coined  at  the  Tangletown  mint. 

This  remark  is  peculiarly  applicable  to  the  con 
cluding  part  of  the  story,  where  the  baffled  and 
buffeted  heroine  is  represented  as  seeking  the  ref 
uge  of  Religion,  and  finding  peace  in  its  offices  and 
consolations  —  a  consummation  naturally  suggested 
to  a  person  of  Mr.  Trap's  devout  temper,  but  not 
at  all  likely  to  occur  to  so  worldly  a  personage  as 
Amelia. 

While,  therefore,  we  do  not  gainsay  Mr.  Trap's 
statement  far  enough  to  assert  that  he  wrote  the 
whole  story,  we  do  maintain,  with  all  the  authority 
of  our  editorial  function,  that  he  must  have  had  "  a 


212  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

finger  in  the  pie" — and  in  the  most  savory  portions 
of  it,  too. 

But  we  forbear  any  extended  argument — trust 
ing  that  the  astute  reader  would  sooner  give  in  to 
our  view  of  the  matter  at  once,  than  be  held  back 
any  longer  from  the  story,  and  from  the  edification 
of  its  powerful  moral. 


THK    TANQLETOWN   LETTERS.  213 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  A  PORCELAIN  PERSON. 

FOUND  IN  AMELIA'S  PORTFOLIO. 

"TiiAT  child  is  born  to  a  destiny — you  may 
take  my  word  for  it." 

So  said  the  child's  aunt,  Mrs.  Volumnia  Stilts,  as 
she  pointed  her  long,  prophetic  finger  at  the  half- 
conscious  innocent,  some  two  hours  after  its  advent 
into  Puckerdom  Square. 

Mrs.  Stilts — like  all  respectable  oracles  who 
have  a  care  for  their  reputation — had  made  her 
prediction  a  little  ambiguous ;  but  there  was  no 
person  into  whose  ears  it  entered,  but  that  under 
stood  it  as  a  promise  that  the  new-born  heir  should 
possess  the  best  and  the  grandest  things  this  world 
can  afford.  The  prediction  made  its  impression, 
for  Mrs  Stilts,  ugly,  proud,  and  hard  as  utter  world- 
liness  can  make  a  human  creature — was  famous 
for  a  certain  subtlety  of  wisdom,  which  had  more 
of  the  serpent  than  the  dove  in  its  composition ; 
and,  moreover,  the  present  circumstances  of  the 
child  warranted  the  loftiest  anticipations, — that  is, 


214  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

if  wealth  and  privilege,  and  human  favor  and 
power,  may  be  thought  to  justify  high  hopes  for  a 
mortal  under  God's  inscrutable  providence.  The 
prediction  was  proudly  cherished  by  all  the  kin 
dred  circle  that  condescended  to  shine  on  the  world 
from  the  elevation  of  Puckerdom  Square ;  and  it 
grew,  faster  than  its  darling  object,  around  whose 
favored  head  it  may  be  said  to  have  formed  a  halo 
of  perpetual  promise,  and  took  more  alluring 
shapes  than  the  historian  could  describe  in  many 
pages. 

And  so  little  Honoria  Turk  was  established  in 
this  world,  under  an  auroral  blaze  of  patrician 
promise,  and  spontaneously  took  that  air  of  self- 
assured  superiority  natural  to  those  who  expect  to 
bend  men  and  fate  to  their  wishes.  That  she  grew 
up  with  haughty  manners,  and  a  proud  heart,  and 
a  temper  violent  and  exacting,  is  no  more  than  the 
discerning  reader  will  have  anticipated.  That  she 
was  conscious  of  no  interest  in  any  mortal  but  her 
self —  that  she  felt  a  dignified  contempt  for  all  the 
common  herd  of  humanity,  whose  sultry  destiny 
was  being  wrought  out  in  toil  and  tears,  far  below 
the  marble  front  of  Puckerdom  Square,  —  that  she 
cherished  a  dim,  weak  thought  of  being  herself  the 
ultimate  object  for  whom  the  goodly  eatth  yielded 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        215 

its  beauty  and  its  wealth,  —  that,  in  a  word,  all  her 
dreams,  aspirations,  and  endeavors — if  indeed  she 
were  ever  conscious  of  such  things — were  but  the 
restless  suggestions  and  dilations  of  her  plethoric 
vanity,  —  all  this  is  probable  enough.  She  was 
carefully  educated  for  her  supposed  destiny ;  in  all 
accomplishments  that  were  brilliant  and  super 
ficial — in  all  opinions  that  were  pleasing  and 
false — in  all  customs  that  were  popular  and  bad — 
she  acquired  a  distinguished  proficiency.  She  had 
countless  wealth  to  lavish  on  her  caprices,  unmiti 
gated  folly  to  foster  her  conceit  —  and,  most  fatal 
gift  of  all — radiant  beauty  to  sanction  the  tyranny 
of  her  will.  What  more  could  be  done  to  insure 
the  ruin  of  a  fellow-being  ? 

One  day — it  was  about  a  year  before  she  was 
permitted  to  shine  on  the  world  of  fashion  in  the 
full  splendor  of  her  perfections  —  quite  a  startling 
incident  happened  to  our  heroine. 

In  the  august  Turk  family,  had  resided,  for  the 
last  few  months,  Honoria's  cousin,  Mark  Holland,  a 
handsome,  ambitious,  orphan  youth,  who  relied 
.upon  his  uncle's  present  bounty  for  daily  bread, 
and  on  the  future  achievements  of  his  pencil  for  re 
nown.  Mark  was  two  years  older  than  his  cousin, 
with  a  heart  as  full  of  romance  and  passion  as  his 


216        THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

brain  was  of  the  timber  whereof  air-castles  are  built. 
The  unsophisticated  young  man  had  no  defence 
against  the  fatal  charms  that  flashed  upon  him  day 
after  day,  from  the  royal  person  of  Honoria.  He 
was  shot  through  and  through,  every  time  his 
eyes  met  her  conquering  glances,  and  he  felt  that 
sooner  or  later  he  must  sue  for  mercy. 

Mark,  with  the  infatuation  of  a  doomed  spirit, 
had  begged  the  honor  of  painting  her  portrait ;  and 
she  had  sat  to  him ;  and  he  had  lingered  on  the 
delicious  task,  saturating  himself  with  the  sense  of 
her  beauty,  and  anticipating  heaven  knows  what 
impossible  felicities,  until  his  intoxicated  reason 
swam  in  a  delirium  of  love  and  madness.  He 
knelt  at  her  feet,  and  declared  his  honest  passion 
and  his  daring  hope. 

Honoria  beheld  his  attitude  of  adoration,  and 
heard  his  protestations  of  love, — without  resent 
ment,  almost  without  a  blush.  What  was  it  but  a 
reasonable  tribute  to  her  invincible  beauty  ?  What 
was  it  but  an  earnest  of  those  unlimited  conquests, 
of  that  boundless  adulation,  for  which  she  was 
created?  She  looked  down  upon  him  and  smiled; 
for  was  it  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  so  handsome 
a  youth  at  her  feet,  —  to  see,  in  the  passionate 
brightness  of  his  countenance,  to  he^^in  the 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  217 

tremulous  fervor  of  his  voice,  the  evidence  of  his 
sincerity  —  to  mark  in  his  genius,  his  gentle  per 
ceptions,  his  devotion,  and  his  manly  frankness, 
the  worth  of  the  victim  about  to  be  immolated  ? 

She  smiled,  —  and  when  he  snatched  her  hands 
and  covered  them  with  passionate  caresses,  she 
regarded  him  with  momentary  tenderness,  and 
he  —  poor  betrayed  fool ! —  But  the  delusion  was 
soon  dispelled. 

"There,  that  will  do,"  she  said — smiling  on  him 
still ; —  "  you  could  n't  help  it,  I  dare  say ;  but  do  n't 
be  ridiculous  any  more.  They  say  I'm  to  marry  a 
prince,  Mark,  or  something  of  that  sort,  d'  ye  see  ? 
and  have  dukes  and  knights  waiting  in  my  ante 
rooms —  " 

He  did  not  hear  her  through ;  he  was  gone,  and 
with  such  a  look  ! 

That  evening  his  place  at  the  tea-table  was 
vacant ;  she  noticed  a  cloud  on  her  father's  brow ; 
she  saw  her  mother  and  aunt  Volumriia  exchange 
glances  of  subtle  meaning ;  she  felt  a  momentary 
sensation — it  might  be  of  shame;  but  she  saw 
Mark  Holland — handsome  Mark,  as  she  sometimes 
thought  of  him — no  more  in  Puckerdom  Square. 

It  werjMiperfluous  to  dwell  upon  the  sensation 

created  l^^the  entrance   of  this   peerless  maiden 
10 


218  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTEKS. 

into  the  world  of  fashion.  The  probation  of  girl 
hood  over,  she  mounted  into  that  sanctified  sphere, 
and  found  none  to  question  her  supremacy.  All 
those  faultless  personages  that  form  its  pure  soci 
ety —  at  least  all  of  the  masculine  gender  —  re 
ceived  her  with  acclamation,  and  with  worship 
that  might  spoil  a  saint,  (were  saints  ever  wor 
shipped  in  that  place.) 

I  will  not  lavish  ink,  and  exhaust  rhetoric  in  the 
vain  effort  to  describe  her  triumphal  course.  I 
dare  not,  for  the  sake  of  my  reputation  for  veracity, 
undertake  to  say  how  many  offers  of  marriage  she 
received,  or  much  less  to  number  her  lovers. 
Could  it  be  known  how  many  sighs  were  lavished 
at  her  feet,  what  languishing  glances  were  leveled 
at  her  across  the  vacant  air,  what  eloquent  rhymes 
were  coined  to  the  praise  of  her  cruel  beauty,  what 
poignant  jealousies  \vere  endured  by  half-distracted 
rivals,  and  how  gallant  men  risked  the  perils  of  a 
duel  for  the  honor  of  handing  her  to  her  carriage — 
I  doubt  not  that  the  interest  of  the  most  stoical 
reader  would  be  enlisted  in  her  fair  fortunes. 

But  Miss  Honoria  Turk  was  too  sensible  a  woman 
to  covet  a  husband,  and  enter  with  him  into  the 
comparative  obscurity  of  domestic  lifojghile  she 
could  enrapture  a  new  lover  and  drivcPIW  old  one 


'"be   Triumphal  Career  of  Misa  Hcnoria  Turk:       P    218- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  219 

to  despair  every  week,  and  thus  pursue  a  career  of 
unlimited  glory.  And,  besides,  the  nameless  demi- 
god,  by  an  alliance  with  whom  she  was  to  realize 
the  prediction  of  Mrs.  Volumnia  Stilts,  had  not 
yet  bent  at  her  feet.  To  confess  the  truth,  among 
all  her  devoted  admirers,  there  was  not  a  man 
whom  she  did  not  in  her  heart  despise  —  and, 
doubtless,  for  justifiable  reasons.  They  were  sadly 
poor  in  the  element  of  manliness,  and  probably 
could  not  have  produced  virtue  enough,  by  a  joint- 
stock  effort,  to  have  merited  the  love  of  any  woman 
out  of  perdition. 

So  our  heroine  went  through  her  first  fashionable 
campaign — with  skirmishing  enough,  to  be  sure  — 
but  without  any  decisive  action. 

Aunt  Volumnia  said,  "  It  is  well.  Honoria  is  too 
young  yet.  But  it  will  not  be  prudent  to  pass  the 
chances  of  another  season.  Beauty  is  fleeting,  and 
men  are  fickle.  We  shall  have  a  competitor  by 
and  by,  and  we  must  make  our  hay  while  the  sun 
shines." 

And  the  words  of  the  oracle  were  wise  words. 

Our  heroine  resumed  her  meritorious  career  of 
conquestthe  following  summer,  at  Nahant.  The 
fame  o^^^tachievements  the  past  winter,  had  pre 
ceded  nS^nid  in  the  drawing-room  at  Drew's,  and 


220  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS 

on  the  spacious, beach  of  Lynn,  the  proud  beauty 
reigned  without  a  rival.  Everywhere  her  course 
was  marked  by  the  frown  of  envious  women,  and 
the  sighs  of  captive  men.  The  charms  of  Cleo 
patra  were  not  more  despotic,  more  intoxicating,  or 
scarcely  more  fatal.  Many  a  foolish  Antony,  flee 
ing  thither  from  his  Actium  fight,  willingly  re 
signed  his  Roman  sceptre — the  Caesar-throne  of 
manly  ambition — for  the  fleeting  honor  of  clasping 
that  tyrannic  form  in  the  harmless  luxury  of  the 
waltz.  Oh,  consider  her  glory,  and  emulate  her 
aspirations,  all  ye  daughters  of  men!  Why  did 
Nature  make  you  fair  and  winsome,  but  that  the 
sense  of  your  beauty  might  make  you  proud — that 
pride  might  generate  cruelty  and  insincerity — that 
you  might  sacrifice  the  heart  and  honor  with  which 
God  endowed  you,  to  your  exacting  selfishness  and 
wanton  vanity — and  that  you  might  exhaust  the 
sap  of  life  ere  yet  the  fullness  of  the  summer  were 
come,  and  bring  only  withered  stalks  to  the  autumn 
garners,  where  angels  gather  the  good  fruit  of  this 
world ! 

At  last,  among  the  rout  of  fashionables,  who 
had  conspired  at  Drew's  to  kill  the^iree  hot 
months,  appeared  one  who  really  in^^Ked  the 
ambition  of  Honoria  Turk.  He  was  aiHRnber  of 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

the  Cabinet,  recreating  from  the  toils  and  intrigues 
of  statesmanship,  —  a  man  on  the  hopeful  side  of 
life's  prime,  and  one  who  promised  to  reach  the 
summit  of  political  distinction.  His  personal 
qualities  were  sufficiently  engaging  to  insure  him 
toleration,  even  from  a  belle,  while  his  social  posi 
tion  and  political  prospects  were  such  as  to  raise 
him  far  above  the  tribe  of  admirers,  already  dang 
ling  about  her  person. 

The  victorious  Honoria,  writh  her  usual  good 
sense,  abandoned  her  late  conquests,  and  laid  siege 
to  the  heart  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Windfall.  Nobody 
was  surprised  wrhen,  in  the  course  of  a  week,  the 
statesman  was  found  to  have  surrendered  to  the 
irresistible  charmer.  His  society  was  monopolized 
at  once  by  the  absorbing  syren,  and  the  less  fortu 
nate  beauties  took  what  satisfaction  they  could  in 
teasing  the  rest  of  the  beaux,  thus  hopelessly  cut 
off  from  the  felicity  of  Honoria's  favor. 

Now  let  all  maidenhood  envy  the  success  of  our 
peerless  heroine ! 

A  great  man  has  submitted  to  the  spell  of  her 
beauty.  Behold,  she  leads  him  in  silken  fetters, 
and  tajfcesweet  attraction  of  a  voice  full  of  mu 
sic,  and  eyes  beaming  with  tenderness.  They  ride 
to  and  fro  along  the  ocean  strand,  and  murmur 


222  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

melodies  of  affection  to  the  swelling  sub-base  of 
the  waves.  They  stand  in  the  hush  of  night,  on 
the  rocky  promontory  jutting  sea- ward  from  the 
hotel,  and  listen  to  the  dreamy  strains  floating  out 
from  the  portico  where  the  band  plays,  and  watch 
the  beacon  lights  that  dimly  beam  across  the  bay, 
and  talk  of  music  and  light  —  of  the  infinite  sea 
and  the  infinite  heaven — and  so  hint  and  interpret 
the  sweet  sensations  that  sway  them. 

Most  fortunate  Honoria!  The  fruition  of  her 
hopes  draweth  nigh.  She  will  marry  this  man  of 
power.  At  Washington,  as  the  wife  of  a  great 
statesman,  she  will  become  the  central  figure  of 
the  Republican  Court.  Her  husband  will  be 
appointed  minister  to  London  or  Paris;  she  will 
dazzle  all  the  European  capitals,  and  make  kings 
long  to  share  their  thrones  with  her.  His  growing 
popularity  will  place  her  husband  in  the  chair  of 
the  Presidency,  and  then — what  higher  honors 
heaven  may  vouchsafe  her,  the  adventurous  fancy 
can  not  discover. 

Aunt  Volumnia — whose  hard,  wise  vigilance 
never  slumbers  during  this  critical  season — grows 
fierce  with  the  wear  and  tear  of  secrd^^dety, 
but  appears  daily  on  the  balcony,  amid  the  flut 
tering  beauties  there  assembled,  with  more 


THE    TAKGLETOWN   LETTERS.  223 

more  haughty  air,   as  the  sign  of  her  prevailing 
assurance. 

Meantime,  Honoria  has  secured  the  further 
distinction  of  being  hated  above  all  the  hatred 
ever  before  nourished  in  that  aristocratic  hotel. 
Jealousy,  disappointed  hopes,  and  shameful  cha 
grin  rankle  in  the  breasts  of  both  sexes  —  in  the 
hearts  of  exquisite  young  dandies  and  slimy  rakes, 
whom  she  has  spurned  and  forgotten,  and  in  those 
of  ambitious  girls  and  anxious  mothers,  whom  she 
passed  with  that  detestable  smile  of  conscious 
superiority.  0  spirits  of  Pandemonium!  With 
what  stifled  rage,  and  Constrained  courtesies,  and 
murderous  wishes  they  note  her  progress.  With 
what  delightful  unanimity  they  combine  to  traduce 
her.  With  what  diabolical  lies  they  try  to  taint 
her  fame.  If  poisoning  were  not  a  superannuated 
trick,  I  would  advise  her  to  drink  no  coffee  or  wine, 
for  some  weeks  hence. 


-morning,  the  Hon.  Mr.  Windfall  was 
luiving  a  confidential  talk  with  his  friend,  Col. 
Triphammer,  a  veteran  just  home  from  Mexico. 


224  THE    TAXGLETOWX    LETTERS. 

"You  don't  seem  to  congratulate  me,  as  I  had 
expected,  Colonel,"  observed  the  statesman. 

"I  do  n't  think  it  a  fit  occasion  for  congratula 
tion,"  returned  the  weather-beaten  officer,  bluntly. 

"  You  amaze  me  by  saying  so  ;  pray  explain." 

"  I  dare  say  I  shall  offend  you,  if  I  do  ;  but, 
frankly  then,  I  do  n't  share  your  admiration  of  this 
girl." 

"I  trust  you  do  not;  for  in  that  case,  mutual 
jealousy  would  make  us  mortal  enemies." 

The  soldier  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  pres 
ently  resumed : 

"You  had  better  not  be  hasty  in  this  business, 
you  are  not  engaged?" 

"Almost  as  good,  I  trust ;  in  spirit  we  are." 

"Then  content  yourself  with  the  spirit,  yet 
awhile,  and  beware  of  proceeding  to  the  letter,  till 
you  know  more." 

"  Till  I  know  more  !  " 

"  Even  so  ;  you  may  be  deceived  concerning  this 
paragon  of  a  beauty.  Now,  don't  bridle,  in  that 
fashion,  at  my  plain  speaking,  but  hear  me.  I 
have  seen  something  of  the  world,  as  you  will  per 
haps  grant,  and  you  used  to  flatter  me  with  the 
opinion  that  I  was  a  tolerable  judge  of^^fcacter. 
Well,  taking  my  observation  and  judgment  for 


,       THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  225 

what  they  are  worth,  I  pronounce  this  Miss  Turk 
to  be  beautiful,  proud,  selfish,  and  incapable  of  the 
disinterested  affection  which  every  man  desires  to 
receive  in  a  wife.  There,  I  knew  I  should  anger 
you ;  but  you  have  my  opinion." 

"  Colonel,  you  have  wronged  one  of  the  noblest 
of  her  sex." 

"  Spoken  like  a  lover;  but  if  you  havn't  the  use 
of  your  natural  sight,  as  I  profess  to  have  of  mine, 
at  least  wait;  don't  commit  yourself  further,  just 
at  present." 

"  But  I  return  to  Washington  next  week." 

"Postpone  your  return;  plead  illness — aberra 
tion  of  mind — anything;  I'll  be  your  voucher  for 
any  infirmity  you  may  lay  claim  to ! " 

"  Your  kindness  is  most  flattering." 

"  Stay ;  your  sister  comes  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"Promise  not  to  inform  Miss  Turk  when  she 
arrives, — promise  me  to  say  nothing  about  your 
relationship,  for  a  day  or  so." 

"Impossible;  they  must  know  each  other  imme 
diately." 

' '  Where 's  the  necessity  of  it  ?  You  fashionables, 
for  the  wont  of  something  better  to  do,  are  always 

contriving  innocent  little  surprises  for  each  other. 
1 0* 


226  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

This  will  be  but  an  instance  of  them.  Besides,  if 
you  refuse,  you  miss  a  first-rate  opportunity  of 
getting  the  scales  torn  from  your  eyes." 

"  Confound  you  for  a  plotting  enemy  of  female 
innocence !     I  will  think  of  your  scheme." 


The  next  day  our  Honoria  was  permitted  to 
overhear  a  pleasant  conversation  between  Miss 
Gimp,  of  Bubbleton,  and  Miss  Skimmertop,  of 
Scandalburgh. 

"  Who  is  that  girl  who  arrived  this  morning  in 
Major  White's  carriage?"  inquired  Miss  Gimp. 

"Ah,  that  fascinating  creature  whom  Mr.  Wind 
fall  received  so  ardently  ?  " 

"  The  same ;  she  seems  an  old  acquaintance  of 
his." 

"Better  still,  —  an  old  lover,  if  report  speaks 
true." 

"  Indeed  !  what  can  send  the  poor  thing  here  at 
such  a  time." 

"Heaven  knows;  I  think  she  is  to  be  pitied. 
But  for  mercy's  sake,  do  n't  mention  what  I  am 
telling  you." 

"Oh,  on  no  account;  but  don't  you  think  he 
retains  some  liking  for  her  yet?" 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  227 

"I  should  think  so,  I  declare:  didn't  you  see 
him  kiss  her  when  he  lifted  her  from  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure.  And  would  n't  it  be  fine  if  the  old 
love  should  outwit  the  new  one,  after  all?" 

"  Stranger  things  than  that  happens  ;  though  it's 
my  opinion  that  he'll  marry  Miss  Turk,  even  if  he 
retains  part  of  his  heart  for  the  other  one." 

"You  think  so?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Turk  has  wealth,  which  a  public 
man  may  use  to  great  advantage ;  she  has  beauty 
and  accomplishments  to  adorn  a  statesman's  home, 
and  give  a  kind  of  eclat  to  his  career.  She  might 
help  his  ambition  in  many  ways.  And,  as  regards 
the  other,  it  would  be  strange  if  one  in  Windfall's 
position  could  not  find  means  to  console  her, — 
especially  when  we  consider  in  what  slight  esteem 
these  great  men  commonly  hold  the  decalogue." 

"And  you  really  think  this  wretched  girl — this 
pretty  brazen-face — would  covet  his  love  on  such 
terms?" 

"There  is  scarcely  any  room  to  doubt  it;  I  have 
heard  all  about  her  this  morning,  and  you  may  de 
pend  that  she  would  take  the  most  menial  office 
in  his  household  for  a  fraction  of  his  heart." 

"Well  —  good  heavens!  I  trust  your  surmises 
may  not  i.'iret  Miss  Turk's  ears,  else  she  might, 


228  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

somehow,    consider    herself   insulted,   when    she 
comes  to  have  this  fair  stranger  presented." 

"Yes,  for  goodness  sake,  let  it  be  kept  from 
her;  we  shall  see  them  meet,  in  the  most  sisterly 
manner,  presently." 

******** 
******** 

0,  wicked  conspirators !  inspired  of  Satan,  and 
impelled,  by  all  the  malignity  of  envy,  to  becloud 
the  golden  aurora  of  the  most  peerless  of  belles! 

Ask  me  not  to  lead  you  into  the  seclusion  of 
that  chamber,  whither  the  wrathful  steps  of  our 
abused  Honoria  conduct  her,  and  where — pacing 
the  room  by  the  impulse  of  ever-maddening  pas 
sion —  she  clenches  her  little  hands,  stamps  the 
unconscious  floor  as  though  she  were  crushing 
vipers,  shakes  down  the  wavy  masses  of  her  shin 
ing  hair,  and  flashes  lightning  from  the  troubled 
depths  of  her  dark  eyes.  Look  not  upon  her 
there,  raving  in  the  pitiful  insanity  of  impotent 
anger,  writhing  under  the  sense  of  wrong,  disap 
pointment,  and  humiliation,  and  sobbing  on  her 
couch,  at  last,  in  utter  helplessness  of  woe. 

Unfortunately  for  our  heroine,  aunt  Volumnia 
is  absent  to-dtiy,  and  p;i|»a  and  mamma,  remain  at 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  229 

Puckerdom  Square ;  and  so,  in  the  absence  of  all 
friendly  counsel,  our  resentful  fair  one  must  follow 
her  own  devices. 

The  dinner-table  at  Drew's  shall  not  be  graced 
by  her  beauty  to-day.  The  report  of  her  indispo 
sition,  which  is  published  to  excuse  her  absence, 
saddens  the  heart  of  the  waiting  lover.  He  sends 
messages  of  tender  inquiry  to  her  chamber,  which 
are  answered  in  a  style  of  laconic  distinctness, 
somewhat  puzzling  to  the  statesman's  notions  of 
courtesy. 

Meantime,  Honoria,  possessed  by  the  demon  of 
Folly,  has  been  questioning  her  maid  concerning 
Mr.  Windfall's  demeanor  toward  his  newly-arrived 
friend — has  even  encouraged  her  to  watch  them, 
and  report  discoveries;  and  active  Nancy — nowise 
averse  to  this  honorable  business — reports  enough 
to  confirm  all  the  revolting  suspicions  that  seem 
destined  to  tear  her  heart  asunder. 

But  our  peerless  belle  shall  not  be  found  want 
ing  in  resolution,  after  all.  Hers  is  not  the  ignoble 
spirit  that  bows  to  insult  without  resistance.  If 
glances  can  paralyze — if  words  can  wither — then 
let  those  who  have  wronged  her  abide  her  presence, 
if  they  dare. 

Toward  evening,   girded  in  all  her  pride,  and 


230  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

invested  with  all  the  splendor  of  her  beauty,  she 
appears  on  the  balcony,  among  the  loitering  groups 
that  are  listlessly  watching  the  sun  as  it  fades 
across  the  water.  They  are  here.  See,  at  the  end 
of  the  balcony ;  he  is  pointing  out  to  her  some  ob- 
ject  far  seaward,  with  that  dignified  gesture  and 
kindly  glance,  which  seemed,  only  yesterday,  so 
becoming  and  so  noble;  and  she,  leaning  so  famil 
iarly  on  his  arm,  receives  the  instruction  with  a 
smile  of  affection  and  pride.  Hold  fast  that 
bounding  heart,  imperious  girl !  for  see !  they  have 
turned  —  they  discover  you — they  exchange  a  word 
and  a  smile  —  and  they  approach. 

There!  let  all  who  revere  the  shade  of  Juno, 
admire  the  intrepid  scorn  with  which  our  queen 
of  Beauty  meets  them  face  to  face;  appalls  that 
impudent  interloper  with  a  single  vision  of  her 
lurid  brow,  and  bears  off  the  confounded  statesman, 
as  in  a  flash  of  lightning ! 

"Miss  Turk!  —  Honoria!  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this?"  exclaimed  Windfall,  as  soon  as  he  could 
command  speech. 

They  were  standing  alone,  in  one  of  the  passages. 

Honoria  answered  first  by  a  hoarse  laugh.  "You 
were  actually  going  to  present  her?" 

"Most  certainly,  I  was." 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  231 

"And  to  me?" 

"  Yes,  to  you;  and  wherefore  should  I  not?  Will 
you  have  the  condescension  to  explain  yourself, 
Miss  Turk?" 

And  his  brow  grew  dark  as  hers,  and  his  glance 
almost  as  fierce. 

"  You  have  the  impudence  to  ask  why  you  should 
not  present  that  woman  to  me !  Then,  sir,  let  me 
tell  you:  she  squints,  she  is  lame — she  can  neither 
see  well  nor  walk  gracefully!  In  a  word,  she 
shall  never  be  an  associate  of  mine,  so  help  me 
Heaven ! " 

Windfall  cast  her  hand  off  his  arm,  and  recoiled, 
as  he  might  from  a  wild  beast.  He  was  pale,  even 
to  the  lips,  as  he  answered : 

"Whence  came  this  unhappy  spirit  of  error  and 
demonry,  I  know  not;  but  it  must  be  too  mighty 
for  my  exorcism,  since  it  can  transform  what  I  had 
fancied  to  be  an  angel  of  light  into  such  an  one  as 
this.  I  pardon  you  the  inexplicable  folly  of  this 
hatred  you  evince  toward  my  sister,  and  she  will 
join  me  in  praying  that  one  so  fair  may  be  saved 
from  an  infirmity  so  monstrous.  Farewell." 

And  with  this  parliamentary  address,  the  states 
man-lover  went  his  way ;  while  she — crushed  with 
shame,  and  the  thought  of  his  just  anger,  con- 


232  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

tempt,  and  pity — crept  to  her  room,  like  one  in 
utter  darkness — moaning  under  her  breath. 

"His  sister! — she  is  his  sister,  then;  and  I  have 
scorned  her  as  his  paramour!  0,  God!  that  I 
might  die! " 

I  linger  riot  to  tell  all  that  my  hapless  heroine 
suffered,  with  the  most  magnificent  of  air-castles 
thus  suddenly  tumbled  into  ruin  about  her  head. 
Whosoever  is  blessed  with  sensibility  may  feel  how 
bitter  must  have  been  her  disappointment  and  vain 
repentance.  Impetuous  readers  may  suppose  that 
she  called  down  maledictions  upon  that  gossiping 
pair,  whose  artful  lies  had  betrayed  her  into  this 
folly;  but  on  this  point  I  affirm  nothing.  That 
she  thought  of  asking  for  an  interview  with  Wind 
fall,  that  she  might  explain  her  fatal  error,  and  so 
recover  some  fraction  of  his  esteem — that  pride 
and  shame  forbade  this  step  until  his  departure, 
which  occurred  the  following  morning,  rendered  it 
impracticable  —  that  Aunt  Volumnia  was  furious 
for  many  weeks  at  the  calamitous  issue  of  the 
summer  flirtation,  while  the  scandal-mongers  at 
Drew's  celebrated  the  downfall  of  their  enemy 
with  boisterous  glee — and  that  poor  Honoria  fled 
from  the  sea-beaten  peninsula  long  before  the  Sep 
tember  winds  began  to  wake,  and  had  a  six-weeks 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  233 

battle  with  fever  in  Puckerdom  Square — is  all, 
perhaps,  that  the  reader  will  care  to  know  con 
cerning  this  unhappy  period. 


Great  natures,  as  moralists  tell  us,  do  not  suc 
cumb  to  misfortune  without  a  becoming  struggle. 
They  are  elastic,  recuperative,  persistent,  and  have 
a  salutary  faith  in  themselves,  or  in  their  natal 
stars.  So  it  was  with  that  most  august  maiden, 
whose  mournful  fortunes  I  am  attempting  to  chron 
icle.  Should  she  lose  faith  in  her  destiny,  and  the 
world  mourn  the  premature  withdrawal  of  her 
radiant  presence,  because  of  a  single  defeat? 
Should  the  pusillanimous  tribe  that  had  envied, 
feared,  and  maligned  her,  be  permitted  to  triumph 
by  her  overthrow?  No;  forbid  it,  all  ye  friends 
arid  champions  of  injured  Beauty.  Forbid  it,  all 
ye  cunningly  masked  fiends  that  minister  at  the 
shrine  of  Pride.  Forbid  it,  all  ye  withered  gob 
lins  of  Despair,  that  haunt  the  borders  of  life's 
race-course  with  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

Behold,  then,  as  the  winter  gayeties  revive,  an 
ominous  sensation  in  Puckerdom  Square !  And, 
just  as  the  world  of  Fashion  blooms  out  in  richest 


234  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

colors — with  all  its  singing  birds  screaming  the 
jubilant  chorus  of  "Eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow 
you  die!" — our  dauntless  Honoria  sweeps  into  the 
circle,  brightest  and  most  jubilant  of  all. 

In  vain  shall  Envy  and  Calumny  fight  against  the 
Phoenix,  rising  from  the  ashes  of  humiliation  more 
resplendent  than  before.  "Women  may  pout  and 
rage,  but  men  will  worship  her  still.  She  might 
almost  walk  from  the  evening  rout  to  her  own 
chamber  on  a  macadamized  road  of  abject  lovers' 
necks. 

Nor  shall  she  shed  the  lustre  of  her  charms  on 
mediocre  dandies  alone.  An  illustrious  conquest — 
none  other  than  an  exiled  prince,  just  on  the  eve 
of  recovering  his  lost  dominions  —  attests  the  om 
nipotence  of  her  beauty.  With  the  most  engaging 
French  accent,  and  a  chivalrous  devotion  that 
could  have  been  inherited  only  from  Bayard  him 
self —  with  infinite  eccentricities  of  dress,  and  the 
most  amazing  dramatic  attitudes,  he  evinces  the 
consuming  passion  with  which  she  has  inspired 
him.  All  plebeian-born  rivals  retire  before  the 
incomparable  prince,  in  whose  rich  veins  flows  the 
Bourbon  blood ;  and  Honoria  is  not  displeased  to 
have  her  charms  monopolized  by  one  who  promises 
to  realize  all  the  dreams  of  her  ambition. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  235 

And  now  behold  a  castler,  built  of  none  of  the 
mean  materials  of  mere  republican  greatness,  but 
fashioned  out  of  the  choicest  elements  of  heredi 
tary  aristocracy  and  kingly  privilege.  Out  of  the 
depths  of  her  subtle  and  vivid  fancy,  it  rises 
against  the  peaceful  sky  of  the  Future  —  so  am 
ple,  magnificent,  and  strong,  that  it  may  defy 
the  whirlwinds  and  earthquakes  to  shake  it  from 
its  base. 

In  the  intoxicating  assurance  of  coming  honors, 
and  in  the  genial  company  of  Prince  Bourbon,  how 
the  light-footed  hours,  like  pleasure-laden  nymphs, 
glide  b}  '  For  our  Honoria  there  are  no  leaden 
days  or  anxious  nights  —  no  doubts  to  cloud  the 
bright  illusions  of  Hope — no  fears,  born  of  gentle 
modesty,  to  sober  the  wildness  of  desire.  The 
prize  which  gracious  Fortune  stoops  to  offer  her — 
though  glorious  enough  to  satisfy  her  exacting 
ambition — does  not  so  far  transcend  the  measure 
of  her  deserts  as  to  inspire  any  self-distrust,  or 
suspicion  of  its  insecurity.  Prince  Bourbon  has 
assured  her,  in  his  florid  style,  that  perfections 
such  as  she  can  boast  would  shed  lustre  upon  any 
throne  in  Christendom,  and  she  is  happy  enough  to 
agree  with  him  —  deeming  that  the  dignity  which 


236  THE    TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

awaits  her  is  but  the  appointed  fulfillment  of  her 
august  destiny. 

The  world  of  Fashion  seems  to  endorse  this  high 
estimate  of  her  importance.  Her  name  rings 
through  all  the  jubilant  circles.  Her  career  is  an 
inexhaustible  subject  of  remark  in  high  places. 
The  genteel  newspapers  compliment  her  in  the 
most  graceful  paragraphs.  And  at  last  it  is  an 
nounced  far  and  wide  to  the  awaiting  universe,  that 
the  great  event  is  on  the  eve  of  transpiring — the 
event  that  is  to  transfer  one  who  has  been  the  pride 
and  glory  of  American  Society,  to  the  protection 
of  a  prince  and  the  merited  honors  of  sovereignty. 

It  may  occur  to  the  interested  reader  to  inquire, 
"Does  she  actually  love  Prince  Bourbon,  then? 
and  had  she  loved  Windfall?"  I  answer,  most 
reluctantly,  that  love — as  we  are  prone  to  conceive 
the  passion  in  connexion  with  youth  and  hope  — 
was  utterly  unkno\vn  to  the  heart  of  our  Honoria. 
She  was  above  the  weakness  of  loving  any  man 
for  his  own  sake.  She  loved  admiration,  honors, 
and  power,  with  an  intensity  that  absorbed  her 
whole  being,  and  the  man  who  could  insure  her 
these,  in  the  amplest  measure,  might  receive  a 
certain  haughty  gratitude  which  many  a  mortal 
accepts  as  the  promise  of  coming  affection.  For 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  237 

the  sake,  then,  of  the  unspeakable  privileges  asso 
ciated  with  him,  we  may  suppose  that  Prince 
Bourbon  had  grown  precious  in  the  sight  of  our 
royal  belle  —  that  her  creative  fancy  had  invested 
him  with  attributes  invisible  to  others — and  that 
the  position  he  occupied,  and  her  growing  relations 
towards  him,  had  kindled  a  delusive  halo  around 
his  hairy  physiognomy  that  made  him  seem  as 
noble  as  the  first  Caesar. 

And  did  never  the  suspicion  intrude  itself,  that 
his  devotion  might  be  as  mercenary  as  her  accept 
ance  of  him?  Candidly,  I  believe  that  she  had 
never  questioned  his  avowed  motive,  for  was  not 
she,  in  all  the  springing  affluence  of  her  beauty, 
and  apart  from  any  ulterior  ends,  worthy  to  enlist 
the  homage  of  a  king? 


It  wTas  only  a  week  to  the  appointed  nuptials, 
when  fell  the  unconsidered  blow.  For  days  and 
days  there  had  been  ominous  whispers  in  State 
street  counting-rooms.  Anxious  faces  of  princely 
merchants  had  grown  more  anxious  hour  by  hour. 
And  nowhere  lowered  the  coming  storm  more 


238  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

densely  than  over  the  luxurious  homes  in  Pucker- 
dom  Square.  Rich  Israel  Turk — father  of  our 
queen  of  Beauty — secretly  winces  and  groans  be 
fore  the  impending  blast.  Yet  utters  he  not  a 
word  of  his  apprehension  —  of  his  terrible  con 
viction — to  those  vain,  frail  ones  unconsciously 
entering  the  vortex.  They  notice  his  abstraction, 
his  want  of  rest,  his  haggard  eye ;  but  the  ap 
proaching  marriage,  to  which  he  has  never  given 
his  cordial  assent,  leads  them  to  misjudge  the 
cause. 

Already  the  crash  of  that  great  fortune — that 
crystal  palace,  reared  by  the  combined  industry 
and  enterprise  of  three  generations — has  sounded 
through  the  city.  But  still  they  chatter  and 
smile,  and  dream  and  rejoice,  in  Puckerdom 
Square, — knowing  nothing  of  the  doom  that 
hovers  over  them  with  its  cruel  eye. 

Our  exalted  Honoria  occupies  her  boudoir,  sur 
veying  her  castle,  of  which  she  obtains  daily  some 
more  enchanting  prospect.  The  pleasantness  of 
her  reverie  is  revealed  by  a  half-formed  smile,  com 
placent  as  a  god's.  Can  we  trace  the  current  of 
her  thoughts,  or  define  the  soft  bloom  of  feeling 
that  rustles  in  her  virgin  heart?  Does  she  think, 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  239 

with  a  mellow  regret,  of  the  home  she  is  now  to 
leave?  with  loving  gratitude,  of  the  faithful  beings 
who  have  cherished  her  here  ?  with  awe  and  hu 
mility  of  that  Infinite  Providence  out  of  whose 
bosom  she  came  and  under  whose  awful  equity  she 
lives  and  is  judged?  Does  she  question  why  it  is 
that  men  and  nature  conspire  to  pamper  her  self- 
love,  and  her  wildest  desires,  while  they  laugh  at 
the  ambition  of  others,  and  smite  their  presump 
tion  with  shame?  Does  she  ask  by  what  inscruta 
ble  equity  her  path  of  life  has  been  laid  through 
vernal  blooms  and  palace  halls;  while  the  pale 
girl,  who  stared  up  at  her  window,  yesterday,  with 
such  a  pleading  grief — born  into  this  world  the 
self-same  instant — must  walk  the  howling  waste 
alone,  and  never  see  God's  love  in  the  pitying  eye 
of  man? 

Let  her  dream,  poor  fallen  favorite  of 

capricious  Fate ;  bankrupt  in  all  but  the  illusions 
of  this  hour  !  Let  her  dream,  and  let  mercy  forbid 
her  to  wake  to  the  sense  of  that  which  she  has 
neither  grace  nor  virtue  to  meet. 

It  is  Aunt  Volumnia  that  enters  —  ghostly  bird 
of  Evil!  — flutters  to  the  feet  of  her  idol,  and 
croaks  the  dismal  news. 


240  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

Honoria  staggers  to  the  wall,  and  her  rich  blood, 
obeying  the  mighty  shock,  rushes  from  the  marble 
face  it  need  beautify  no  more. 

Ruin!  beggary!  desertion!  suicide!  —  all  in  one 
fell  swoop !  —  it  can  not  be !  " 

And  yet  it  is  :  —  and  here  is  proof  of  the  worst : 
They  have  found  the  corpse  of  the  old  man  who 
had  not  the  courage  to  survive  his  riches.  And  here 
is  a  farewell  note  from  Prince  Bourbon,  worded  in 
the  politest  terms  that  chivalry  can  frame,  bewail 
ing  the  postponement  of  his  restoration  to  the 
crown,  and  the  cruel  necessity  that  must  part  him 
from  the  most  adorable  of  women. 


After  the  date  of  this  great  calamity,  our 

heroine  sinks  into  such  unmerited  obscurity  that  it 
is  difficult  to  ascertain  her  fortunes.  She  seems  to 
have  shrunk  from  the  eyes  of  the  world,  conscious 
that  she  could  never  regain  any  portion  of  that 
intoxicating  admiration  she  had  once  enjoyed. 
And  very  sad  it  is  to  think  how  soon  she  was 
forgotten  by  all  the  false-hearted  tribe  who  had 


THE   TANGLETOWX   LETTERS.  241 

worshipped  her.  While  her  heart  was  breaking, 
and  her  beauty  wasting,  in  hopeless  poverty  and 
exacting  toil,  they  were  dangling  around  a  new 
favorite,  and  enacting  the  very  homage  that  had 
intoxicated  her  own  fancy. 

Of  all  those  whom  she  had  known  in  her  day  of 
wealth  and  pride,  one  being  only  had  pity  on  her 
desolation,  and  extended  to  her  the  helping  hand  of 
Christian  charity.  Nor  was  it  without  many  a 
struggle  with  vain  pride,  and  the  sense  of  humil 
iation,  that  poor  Honoria  was  induced  to  accept 
favors  of  handsome  Mark  Holland — now  an  artist 
of  high  celebrity  and  ample  means.  By  degrees, 
however,  under  the  grievous  discipline  of  her 
strange  lot,  better  feelings  and  wiser  thoughts  ob 
tained  an  influence  in  her  nature,  and  partially 
reconciled  her  to  the  inevitable  condition.  Grad 
ually  she  accustomed  herself  to  enter  her  cousin's 
home,  —  to  receive  kindness  from  his  happy  wife, 
— to  caress  the  little  child  that  had  received  her 
name — perhaps  to  pray  in  secret  that  its  destiny 
might  not  be  like  hers. 

And  when,  in  the  course  of  years,  the  grace  of 
her  Heavenly  Father  had  so  wrought  in  her  soul 
that  pride  and  the  fear  of  man  no  longer  deterred 

her,  she  grew  accustomed  to  seek,  each  Sabbath 
11 


242  THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS. 

day,  one  of  the  humblest  of  the  city  chapels,  there 
to  blend  her  prayers  and  confessions  with  the  poor 
in  spirit.  Thus  was  she  made  acquainted  with  the 
kindred  bonds  and  reciprocal  offices  that  unite  the 
hearts  of  men  in  the  Gospel  of  Peace.  Thus  did 
she  learn  to  sympathize  with  the  griefs  and  cares 
of  all  humanity,  and  find  in  ministries  of  mercy  to 
the  suffering,  a  blessed  oblivion  for  her  own  regrets 
and  disappointments. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  243 


LETTER  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

MR.  TRAP  HEARS  PHILEMON  BLOTUS  DILATE  ON  SPIRITUALISM, 
AND  GIVES  US  HIS  IMPRESSIONS  WITH  THE  MOST  ADMIRABLE 
FRANKNESS, A  VERY  "INJUDICIOUS"  LETTER,  WITH  NOTH 
ING  TO  RECOMMEND  IT  BUT  HONESTY  AND  COMMON-SENSE. 

I  WAS  waited  upon  to-day  by  a  zealous  Spirit 
ualist,  who  entreated  me  to  go  and  hear  Philemon 
Blotus  lecture  in  defence  of  this  new  ism.  Mr. 
Blotus  has  been  agitating  here  in  Tangletown 
above  two  weeks, — having  been  encouraged  by 
large  and  enthusiastic  audiences,  and  by  the 
promise,  (to  his  sanguine  fancy,)  of  drawing  all 
our  churches  into  the  chaos  where  he  so  gloriously 
flounders.  Sooth  to  say,  some  of  the  preachers 
really  tremble  lest  he  may  accomplish  this  incred 
ible  and  calamitous  feat ! 

Having  the  weakness  to  yield  to  my  zealous 
neighbor,  I  went  and  heard  Philemon  expatiate. 
He  claimed  to  be  the  medium  through  whom  one  of 
the  first  divines  of  America — long  since  gathered 
to  his  rest  —  uttered  his  celestial  wisdom  for  the 
edification  of  mortal  humanity. 


244  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

The  address  related  chiefly  to  the  character  and 
occupations  of  the  heavenly  state.  The  introduc 
tory  part  consisted  of  a  succession  of  most  pitiful 
truisms,  such  as  no  man  could  deliver  in  his  normal 
state,  without  being  scouted  as  too  shallow  a  driv 
eller  to  merit  an  audience.  Yet  I  saw  men  of 
average  intelligence  sitting  in  the  hall,  listening 
with  hungry  eagerness  to  this  oracular  fellow,  and 
considering,  with  admirable  candor,  pompous  state 
ments  that  no  man  in  his  senses  could  think  of 
controverting!  But  the  main  portion  of  the  lec 
ture  was  more  seriously  objectionable.  It  repre 
sented  our  heavenly  home  as  little  else  than  a 
sensual  paradise.  It  was  the  Elysium  of  the 
classic  Mythology,  in  all  its  essential  features.  I 
was  amazed  at  the  impudent  misnomer  of  charac 
terizing  this  gross  and  palpable  materialism,  by 
such  a  term  as  SPIRITUALISM.  One  might  as  well 
call  sensuality  self-denial.  Yet,  people  of  sluggish 
natures,  of  voluptuous  temperaments,  are  delighted 
with  such  views.  Their  ideal  of  future  felicity 
does  not  greatly  differ  from  the  actual  life  of  an 
Oriental  prince — it  is  made  up  of  boundless  indul 
gence,  untroubled  ease,  soothing  music,  the  aroma 
of  unfading  flowers,  the  genial  warmth  of  an  eter 
nal  sunshine.  Hence  —  listening  to  such  philoso- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  245 

pliers  as  Philemon  Blotus  —  their  senses  kindle, 
their  prurient  fancies  dilate,  and  they  sponta 
neously  exclaim,  "  How  beautiful !  how  delicious  !  " 

"The  Bible,"  says  Philemon  Blotus,  "does  not 
prove  the  Future  State ;  it  was  left  for  Spiritualism 
to  show  forth  the  glorious  truth."  Poor  Philemon ! 
so  unfortunate  himself  as  never  to  have  believed  in 
the  spiritual  state,  he  fancies  all  Christendom 
immersed  in  the  same  darkness.  He  had  better 
follow  in  the  wake  of  the  Bible  through  the  mod 
ern  centuries,  and  see  with  what  sentiments  men 
have  regarded  the  Future,  with  merely  its  con 
temned  light  to  guide  them.  He  may  find  that  — 
though  the  Bible  does  not  prove  the  Future  Life  any 
more  than  it  proves  the  Divine  Existence — yet  it 
has  contrived  to  inspire  a  very  general  persuasion 
of  the  reality  of  both  these  ideas  ;  and  that — though 
it  has  omitted  to  give  us  the  exact  number  of  the 
house  we  are  to  inhabit  in  the  Celestial  City,  and 
neglected  to  deliver  us  maps  of  the  Immortal  Coun 
try,  generally — yet  the  great  mass  of  mankind  are 
stupid  enough  to  trust  their  Eternal  Father,  and  to 
confide  in  the  equity  of  his  arrangements  with 
reference  to  their  future  abode! 

Such  an  idea  of  Christian  Immortality  as  these 
effeminate  seers  present  us!  Was  it  in  view  of 


246  *  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTEES. 

such  a  state  that  men  walked  to  the  flames  un 
daunted,  and  welcomed  the  parting  agony  with 
psalms?  Did  the  early  saints  forego  even  the 
innocent  pleasures  of  life  —  and  much  more  the 
sensual  seductions  that  smiled  on  them  out  of  liber 
tine  Rome, —  with  such  a  Valhalla  of  licence  and 
stupid  languishment  glistening  before  them  in  the 

deeps  of  Heaven? Surely,  if  anything 

could  make  a  reasonable  creature  disbelieve  the  Fu 
ture  Life,  it  would  be  the  association  of  the  hal 
lowed  state  with  this  despicable  effeminacy  and 
this  heathen  materialism.  I  can  not  conceive  of 
an  average  manliness  that  would  not  be  ashamed 
of  such  a  tone  of  life. 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        247 


LATER  FROM  TANGLETOWN. 

ARRIVAL  OF  THE    FIRE-EATER  TRAIN HEALTH    OF  MR.  TRAP- 
PROGRESS  OF  DISUNION DR.  FIBLONG's   POSITION RUMORS 

OF  MRS.  HARROWSCRATCH,   ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 

BY  the  arrival  of  the  Fire-Eater  Express,  which 
reached  our  city  just  as  we  were  dressing  for  our 
New  Year's  company,  we  have  advices  from  Tan- 
gletown  as  late  as  12  o'clock  last  night.  The 
Fire-Eater  made  a  highly  successful  run,  suffering 
no  accidents  or  detentions  of  importance  —  killing 
only  two  Irishmen  and  a  drove  of  pigs,  near  Pan 
demonium — being  off  the  track  only  three  times 
in  the  whole  route — driving  an  old  woman  or  two 
into  hysterics  —  and  arriving  an  hour  and  fifty-nine 
minutes  behind  time — only. 

We  are  pained  to  learn  by  private  letters  from 
Mr.  Timotheus  Trap,  Esq.,  that  the  excellent  old 
gentleman  has  recently  suffered  a  severe  illness, 
which  discerning  friends  attribute  to  the  pertina 
city  of  Peskiewitch,  whom  some  regard  as  the  very 
prince  of  bores,  and  the  pith  and  marrow  of  an 


248  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS 

idle  vagabond.  Mr.  Trap  traces  his  sickness  to  an 
undue  excitement  engendered  by  the  late  election. 
He  confesses  to  have  been  possessed  by  the  prepos 
terous  ambition  of  having  two  or  three  honest  men 
elected,  on  the  municipal  ticket.  This  Quixotic 
idea  found  little  toleration  among  the  patriotic 
masses  of  Tangletown,  and  they  rebuked  the  falla 
cious  hope  by  the  triumphant  support  at  the  ballot- 
box,  of  all  the  ripest  rogues.  Mr.  Trap's  disap 
pointment  and  chagrin — in  addition  to  his  previous 
exertions — not  to  mention  certain  domestic  trials 
into  which  we  are  not  permitted  to  penetrate  — 
seem  to  have  had  a  serious  effect  upon  his  constitu 
tion.  We  are  glad  to  add,  however,  that  he  is  now 
convalescent,  and  may  even  be  adequate  to  encoun 
ter  roast  pork  and  Congressional  debates  within  a 
week. 

We  learn  further,  from  Mr.  Trap's  letters,  that 
dissension  still  rankles  in  Mr.  Mann's  church,  to 
the  great  grief  and  misfortune  of  that  upright 
minister.  Rumors  of  his  impending  resignation 
were  current  when  the  Fire-Eater  left. 

Dr.  Fiblong's  popularity  seemed  on  the  increase, 
as  was  evinced  by  a  tremendous  donation  visit  on 
Christmas  day,  and  by  a  recent  sermon  on  the  duty 
of  preserving  the  Union.  Some  thoughtful  per- 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  249 

sons  have  advised  that  this  patriotic  divine  be  sent 
into  the  Southern  States,  for  the  purpose  of  search 
ing  out  and  distinctly  classifying  the  various  advan 
tages  of  domestic  slavery — particularly  as  regards 
the  slaves  themselves — with  a  view  of  correcting 
the  misapprehension,  and  eradicating  the  prejudices 
of  northern  fanatics.  It  is  understood  that  several 
gentlemen  of  Tangletown — celebrated  alike  for 
their  Christian  benevolence  and  enlightened  patri 
otism —  are  ready  to  contribute  each  thirty  pieces 
of  silver,  in  furtherance  of  this  magnanimous 
object. 

In  looking  over  a  late  number  of  the  Tangletown 
Mirror,  we  find  that  Dr.  Fiblong  has  been  preach 
ing  a  sermon  on  THE  SECRET  OF  MINISTERIAL  SUC 
CESS.  The  principal  propositions  appear  to  have 
been,  that  a  preacher  should  never  attack  any  evil  that 
has  acquired  political  associations,  since  he  thereby 
becomes  amenable  to  the  charge  of  covertly  assail 
ing  the  measures  of  some  party  with  which  his 
friends  may  be  identified ;  and  that  he  should  never 
censure  any  vice  known  to  be  practiced  by  his  congrega 
tion,  under  penalty  of  being  accused  of  indulging 
personalities,  and  violating  the  laws  of  courtesy. 

We    commend   these  profound   propositions   to 

the  attentive  consideration  of  the  clergy,  far  and 
11* 


250  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

near.  We  suggest  whether  a  more  biblical  style 
of  sermonizing,  and  more  studious  fidelity  to  the 
Gospel,  would  not  properly  involve  an  exclusive 
reference  to  the  sins  recorded  in  Holy  Scripture — 
thus  permitting  our  modern  and  local  peccadilloes 
to  go  unwhipped. 

"We  infer,  from  a  notice  in  the  Mirror,  and  from 
some  mysterious  allusions  in  one  of  Mr.  Trap's  let 
ters,  that  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  has  dawned  again 
upon  Tangletown.  She  appears  at  present,  it 
should  seem,  in  the  character  of  a  "healing  me 
dium," —  pledging  herself  to  the  moderate  task  of 
curing  "all  human  maladies,  physical  and  spirit 
ual."  In  this  beneficent  undertaking,  she  is  asso 
ciated  with  Charon — a  nondescript  vagabond, 
against  whom  we  caution  all  printers  and  bill 
posters,  all  tailors  and  boot-makers,  and  the  honest 
part  of  mankind  generally,  and  whom  \ve  commend 
to  the  vigilance  of  the  proper  authorities,  he  having 
"no  visible  means  of  support." 

POSTSCRIPT.  Since  writing  the  above,  we  have 
glanced  at  the  Mirror's  criminal  column,  from 
which,  we  learn  that  Charon  has  been  urgently  in 
vited  to  the  Police  Court,  and  thence  conveyed, 
with  high  official  solicitude,  to  a  snug  apartment 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  251 

in  the  jail.  For  these  acts  of  legal  or  judicial 
courtesy,  the  Longbeard  seems  to  have  been  in 
debted  to  an  extra  bottle,  uncorked  some  time 
after  midnight,  and  to  an  injudicious  exercise  of 
the  pugilistic  function,  to  the  appalling  detriment 
of  a  pair  of  convivial  noses.  So  that  bright  and 
shining  rascal  is,  at  the  present  writing,  we  trust, 
enjoying  the  salutary  influences  of  solitude  —  quite 
out  of  the  reach  of  temptation. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  253 


CONFIDENTIAL   NOTE. 

WE  deem  it  but  fair  to  apprise  the  reader  that 
some  of  the  gentlemen  who  figure  in  the  ensuing 
paper — feeling  themselves  damaged  by  the  Mirror's 
too  graphic  report — brought  a  furious  prosecution 
against  the  luckless  editor.  This  unsophisticated 
individual  —  confiding  in  the  honesty  and  accuracy 
of  his  reporter — at  first  set  the  wrath  of  the  Seers 
at  defiance;  but,  "by  due  process  of  law,"  he  be 
came  instructed  in  that  exquisite  axiom  of  legal 
casuistry  which  maintains  truth  to  be  the  worst 
phase  of  a  libel,  and  was  obliged  to  pay  a  round 
thousand  or  so  for  the  lesson. 

The  reader  will  appreciate,  therefore,  the  ex 
traordinary  cost  at  which  this  article  has  been 
furnished 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTEKS.  255 


THE  GREAT  MAMMOTIIIC  REFORM  CONVENTION; 

WITH    PROPOSALS  FOB  UNHINGING    SOCIETY,  AND  TURNING  THE 
WORLD  TOPSY-TURVY. 

Reported  expressly  for  the  Tangletown  Mirror,  and  reprinted  therefrom. 

WE  announced  some  weeks  since  that  a  Conven 
tion  was  about  to  be  called  in  this  enlightened  city 
for  the  purpose  of  initiating  a  radical  change  in  the 
Religion,  Government  and  Morality  of  the  civil 
ized  world — especially  of  that  favored  portion 
of  it  over  which  the  genius  of  American  Liberty 
presides. 

The  Convention  accordingly  met  on  Wednesday 
of  the  present  week. 

For  several  days  preceding  the  momentous  con 
vocation,  an  unusual  sensation  pervaded  our  ex 
pectant  community,  and  the  impending  revolution 
was  discussed  in  all  its  aspects.  Some  treated  the 
threatened  reform  with  open  derision;  others  were 
exasperated  at  the  thought  of  any  change  in  the 
present  order  of  things,  being  men  well  to  do  in 
the  world,  custom-house  officers,  clergymen  with 


256  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

fat  salaries,  apoplectic  old  gentlemen  living  upon 
their  interest,  drowsy  professors  crusted  over  with 
tough  erudition,  and  such  like  respectable  fry. 
There  were  still  others  who  hailed  the  prospective 
innovation  with  a  kind  of  libertine  delight  —  as 
some  knaves  glory  in  a  midnight  conflagration,  be 
cause  the  general  alarm  and  confusion  affords  them 
a  rich  opportunity  for  gathering  plunder.  Among 
this  class  we  might  mention  a  few  fast  young  men, 
without  the  amplest  stock  of  resources — a  few 
speculators,  laid  on  their  backs,  as  helpless  as  tur 
tles,  by  the  last  thundering  wave  of  adversity — a 
swarm  of  quacks,  who  had  tickled  the  public  cre 
dulity  once  too  often,  and  run  their  impudent 
tricks  into  the  ground  —  a  score  or  two  of  lan 
guishing  widows,  miserably  wanting  appreciation, 
and  a  round  dozen  married  couples,  hoping  that 
some  lurch  of  the  social  ship  might  cast  them 
asunder. 

On  Monday  and  Tuesday  our  city  began  to  be 
enlivened  by  the  arrival  of  innumerable  personages 
of  note,  whose  fame  was  to  give  eclat  to  the  Con 
vention.  All  the  trains  that  entered  the  city  from 
the  direction  of  the  rising  sun,  came  loaded  with 
distinguished  passengers,  whose  lambent  genius 
had  touched  every  problem  of  the  age — if  their 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  257 

various  admirers  were  to  be  credited — and  who, 
at  all  events,  demeaned  themselves  with  an  air 
which  sufficiently  bespoke  their  lofty  destinies. 
The  conductors  complained  that  they  found  it  dif 
ficult  to  collect  fares  of  this  distinguished  com 
pany,  which  we  attribute  to  the  entire  pre-occu- 
pation  of  their  minds  with  the  weighty  concerns 
of  reform,  and  the  sublime  disdain  with  which 
great  minds  are  sometimes  known  to  treat  the 
trivial  affairs  of  business. 

Among  the  crowd  sauntering  about  the  station 
to  observe  the  distinguished  personages,  as  they 
issued  from  the  cars,  our  reporter  noticed  our  well- 
known  fellow-citizen,  TIMOTHEUS  TRAP,  Esq.  The 
good  old  gentleman  was  standing  in  the  midst  of 
a  rather  murky  mass  of  apple-women  and  candy- 
boys —  having  evidently  made  extensive  purchases 
from  both  parties  —  and  a  smile  of  philosophical 
composure  dwelt  upon  his  countenance,  as  he  sur 
veyed  the  streaming  host  of  innovators  just  ar 
rived  to  haul  down  and  reconstruct  the  edifice  of 
society. 

Our  reporter  supposes  that  Timotheus  may  be 
long  to  a  small   class   of  persons  not  enumerated 
above,  who  have  not  shared  in  the  prevailing  ex 
citement  here  in  Tangletown,  having  that  mysfce- 


258  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS 

rious  faith  in  the  general  stability  of  things,  which 
enables  them  to  look  with  tranquil  toleration  upon 
the  assembling  of  this  Convention — somewhat  as 
they  might  view  the  attempt  of  a  few  lunatics  to 
pluck  down  the  sun,  as,  indeed,  a  mournful  sort  of 
enterprise,  but  one  in  no  sense  likely  to  disturb 
the  solar  system. 


About  nine  o'clock,  the  Hall  began  to  be  filled 
by  the  distinguished  delegates  from  the  various 
schools  of  Reform.  The  scene  soon  became  ani 
mated  and  picturesque.  Upon  the  rostrum  sat  the 
remote  and  prime  authors  of  the  Convention  — 
male  and  female — in  earnest  preliminary  consul 
tation.  The  utmost  freedom  and  originality  of 
costume  was  observable  in  this  group,  and  the  ob 
server  hesitated  in  his  admiration,  being  in  doubt 
which  he  ought  to  applaud  most,  the  scantiness  of 
dress  in  one  sex,  or  the  superabundance  of  beard 
in  the  other. 

Around  this  notable  company,  were  grouped 
certain  secondary  lights,  who  might  be  said  to  oc 
cupy  the  character  of  mediators  between  the  seera 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        259 

upon  the  platform,  and  the  neophytes  distributed 
over  the  lower  end  of  the  hall — receiving  in  their 
own  persons  the  perfect  splendor  of  that  recondite 
wisdom,  and  transferring  it  to  the  weaker  brethren 
in  a  softened  or  diluted  state. 

Amidst  the  motley  audience,  were  many  restless 
and  credulous  persons,  who — not  being  able  to 
find  their  place  in  the  world  under  its  present 
adjustment,  and  not  thinking  very  highly  of  the 
plan  on  which  it  was  contrived  —  were  on  the  alert 
for  the  first  omens  of  dissolution,  determined  to 
lay  hold  of  the  first  well-furnished  stall  that  should 
float  within  reach  of  their  hungry  embrace. 

The  gallery  was  mainly  occupied  by  truant  boys, 
street  vagrants,  and  growling  dogs.  The  former 
appeared  immeasurably  edified  by  the  general 
spectacle  of  the  assembly,  and  especially  by  the 
deportment  of  the  strong-minded  ladies-,  arrayed 
upon  the  rostrum  in  all  their  mental  audacity. 
Indeed,  a  certain  display  of  enthusiasm  on  the 
part  of  these  susceptible  lads,  proved  fatal  to  the 
permanency  of  their  enjoyment;  for  a  few  dis 
charges  of  pea-nuts  and  small  gravel  stones  into 
the  vicinity  of  the  platform,  drew  the  hot  wrath 
of  the  seers  upon  them,  and  they  were  ignomini- 
ously  expelled  from  the  hall. 


260  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  the  right 
notorious  Mr.  SPONTANEOUS — author  of  The  Grand 
Flummery  —  arid  finally  organized  by  the  choice  of 
Mr.  BELCHER  as  Moderator,  and  the  amiable  Mr. 
FLUNKEY  as  Secretary.  (The  list  of  Vice  Presi 
dents,  unfortunately,  can  not  be  given  this  morning, 
without  excluding  other  matter  of  more  vital 
interest.  We  find  the  catalogue  to  occupy  some 
thing  more  than  half  a  column,  and  we  think  of 
reserving  it  for  an  Extra,  to  be  issued  on  Saturday, 
with  a  new  advertisement  of  Patent  Medicines.) 

Some  discussion  ensued  respecting  the  propriety 
of  opening  the  convention  with  prayer. 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  was  opposed  to  prayer,  in  the 
present  unsettled  state  of  opinion  among  the 
brethren.  Some,  he  said,  believed  God  to  be  a, 
Person,  others  an  Essence,  and  others  still  an 
Electric  Force.  It  was  a  debatable  question 
whether  he  was  Concrete  or  Abstract.  Some  very 
excellent  people  —  a  few  of  whom  he  rejoiced  to 
see  in  the  hall — had  not  yet  made  up  their  minds 
whether  or  not  there  be  any  God !  For  his  own 
part,  he  believed  he  had  demonstrated  in  The 
Grand  Flummery,  that  God  is  the  Pre-Organic 
Super-Excelsior  Principle  of  Primitive  Dynamics, 
lie  felt  qualified  to  maintain  that  opinion  still. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  261 

But  he  would  not  impose  his  views  upon  others, 
against  their  will;  and,  since  there  was  not  a  una 
nimity  of  opinion  in  the  Convention,  as  to  what 
God  is,  he  thought  it  best  to  venture  upon  no  devo 
tional  performances. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  was  also  against  praying.  He  bore 
down  upon  the  practice  as  a  vestige  of  supersti 
tion,  and  ridiculed  the  idea  that  there  could  be  any 
possible  utility  in  it. 

Mr.  D.  I.  S.  SECTION  ws^  disposed  to  join  issue 
with  Mr.  Spontaneous  on  his  definition  of  the 
Deity,  but  the  President  discreetly  waived  the 
debate,  saying  that,  in  his  judgment,  the  difference 
of  views  that  had  been  alluded  to,  turned  upon  a 
point  of  no  practical  importance ! 

This  decision  brought  up  half  a  dozen  ardent 
neologists,  each  of  whom  had  some  precious  theory 
of  the  Deity,  to  the  trivial  importance  of  which  he 
was  far  from  assenting.  During  the  next  five 
minutes,  much  confusion  prevailed  in  the  hall. 

Scarcely  were  these  gentlemen  pacified  ere  Mrs. 
Trebblewail  attempted  to  address  the  Convention. 

Mrs.  Trebblewail  is  the  most  ancient  of  the  strong- 

o 

minded,  angular  in  feature,  dark  and  keen  of 
glance,  shrill  and  mighty  in  utterance,  and  withal, 
a  most  persistent  orator.  Unfortunately,  there  is 


262  THE   TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

a  prejudice  against  this  redoubtable  woman,  origi 
nating  in  a  strange  notion  of  her  insanity ;  and  she 
rarely  advances  beyond  her  exordium,  without 
suffering  some  provoking  interruption.  The  Mod 
erator  began  to  hammer  his  table  at  the  end  of 
her  first  period.  But  she  went  on,  looking  mad 
defiance  at  that  dignitary,  and  trailing  her  rhetoric 
through  the  spaces  of  the  hall,  like  a  bundle  of 
thorn-brush  doing  the  office  of  a  shillalah.  She 
launched  into  a  cutting  philippic  on  the  tyranny 
of  man  over  woman.  The  Moderator  commanded 
silence.  The  seers  hitched  and  looked  wrathful. 
The  vagrants  in  the  gallery  applauded,  and  the 
dogs  began  to  bark.  It  was  all  in  vain.  There 
was  but  one  mode  of  relief.  Two  men  —  appa 
rently  familiar  with  the  orator's  infirmity,  and 
seeing  exactly  what  must  be  done  —  took  the 
persistent  creature  in  their  arms,  and  carried  her 
out  amid  vehement  struggling. 

On  motion  of  Mr.  SUBSOIL,  a  committee  was 
nominated  to  introduce  such  business  as  should 
seem  appropriate  to  the  care  of  the  convention. 
This  occupied  the  meeting  until  the  time  of  ad 
journment. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  263 

In  the  afternoon,  the  committee  on  business 
introduced  a  formidable  series  of  resolutions,  re 
flecting  rather  severely  on  the  Bible,  the  Church, 
and  the  Clergy.  These  resolutions  being  nearly  as 
lengthy  as  the  President's  Message,  we  can  not 
lay  them  before  our  readers  —  a  deprivation  to 
which  most  of  them  will  easily  become  reconciled, 
we  doubt  not,  in  view  of  their  exceedingly  ultra 
character. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  —  as  chairman  of  the  business  com 
mittee — accompanied  the  resolutions  with  a  speech 
of  great  boldness  and  perspicuity. 

The  Bible,  he  said,  had  been  venerated  to  a 
ridiculous  extent.  Men  had  laid  down  their  com 
mon  sense  before  it,  and  become  fools.  They  had 
accepted  its  preposterous  statements  as  infallible 
truth,  though  they  were  opposed  by  Eeason,  and 
disproved  by  Science.  What  man  in  his  senses, 
for  instance,  could  believe  that  this  planet  was 
created  in  six  days? — that  a  woman  could  be  made 
out  of  the  rib  of  a  man?  —  that  the  ark  contained  a 
copy  of  all  the  animal  creation?  —  that  Joshua 
arrested  the  sun  in  its  course? — that  a  man,  havino- 

1  O 

been  dead  three  days,  could  be  restored  to  life? 
All  this  was  absurd.  A  book  containing  such  state 
ments  deserved  the  contempt  of  rational  beings. 


284  THE    TANGLETOWX    LETTERS. 

It  ought  to  be  put  down.  So  long  as  men  retained 
any  faith  in  it,  they  would  be  superstitious,  full  of 
illiberal  prejudices,  and  unfavorable  to  all  true  re 
form.  For  his  part,  he  boldly  took  the  position, 
that  the  Bible  was  the  great  impediment  to  human 
progress ! 

This  address  made  an  obvious  sensation.  Some 
few  hissed  the  speaker,  but  more  applauded  him. 

When  the  noise  had  somewhat  abated,  Mr. 
MEEKERMAN  took  the  stand.  He  had  no  sympathy 
with  the  resolutions,  and  he  dissented  entirely  from 
the  last  speaker.  (Groans,  and  cries  of  "hear, 
hear!")  The  Bible  had  never  been  venerated  too 
much  —  it  never  could  be.  Men,  however,  had 
been  too  indiscriminate  in  their  veneration  of  it. 
They  had  been  very  ignorant  of  its  contents,  and 
had  failed  to  interpret  it  rationally.  They  had 
idolized  its  verbal  form,  instead  of  revering  its  in 
terior  spirit.  (Hear,  hear.)  Every  intelligent  be 
liever  in  the  Bible  knew  that  there  was  no  conflict 
between  its  statements,  when  rightly  apprehended, 
and  the  truths  of  any  well-established  science. 
Geology  and  Astronomy  had  made  their  peace 
with  Moses  long  since;  and  he  regretted  to  find 
so  well-posted  a  man  as  Mr.  Subsoil  still  ignorant 
of  the  reconciliation.  He  did  not  suppose  there 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  265 

was  any  thing  in  uncorrupted  Scripture  that  was 
opposed  to  reason,  though  there  was  much,  doubt 
less,  that  transcended  the  range  of  any  human  fac 
ulty.  There  were  acknowledged  interpolations, 
and  errors  of  translation,  which  he  was  not  obli 
gated  to  defend.  The  Bible  was  made  up  of  dif 
ferent  classes  of  writings  —  such  as  histories, 
prophecies,  didactic  addresses,  epistles,  poems, 
allegories,  parables  —  arid  it  demands  an  interpre 
tation  which  shall  recognize  the  peculiarities  and 
limitations  of  these  different  forms  of  composition. 
In  ignoring  this  fundamental  consideration,  the 
last  speaker  betrayed  his  utter  disqualification  for 
dealing  with  so  serious  and  complicated  a  subject. 

As  regarded  the  gentleman's  closing  assump 
tion — that  the  Bible  wis  the  great  impediment  to 
human  progress — Mr.  Meekerman  would  be  glad 
to  have  the  gentleman  explain  why  human  pro 
gress  is  not  a  little  more  conspicuous  in  Hindostan 
and  Turkey,  where  the  aforesaid  impediment 
scarcely  exists?  (Applause  and  sensation.) 

Mrs.  SKEWER  had  no  great  opinion  of  the  Bible, 
notwithstanding  Mr.  JVJ.'s  plausible  defence  of  it. 
She  considered  the  story  of  woman  being  made 
from  the  rib  of  man,  as  not  only  ridiculous  in  itself, 
but  as  an  unjust  reflection  on  the  dignity  of  the 
12 


266  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

sex,  since  it  implied  a  certain  indebtedness  on  the 
part  of  woman  that  was  humiliating  to  contem 
plate. 

Miss  PRUDE  thought  the  Bible  formula,  which 
spoke  of  man  and  woman  as  becoming  one  flesh, 
exceedingly  immodest,  and  the  mark  of  some 
shockingly  vulgar  mind. 

Mr.  MEEKERMAN  had  scarcely  time  to  quote  the 
text — To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure — when  Mrs. 
HARROWSCRATCH  rose  upon  the  rostrum. 

The  appearance  of  this  renowned  reformer  was 
greeted  with  prolonged  applause.  The  vagrants 
in  the  gallery  waved  their  shabby  caps,  as  though 
their  enthusiasm  would  pass  all  bounds. 

Mrs.  HARROWSCRATCH  directed  the  shafts  of  her 
rhetoric  against  Paul.  He  had  commanded  wives 
to  submit  to  their  husbands ;  was  that  reasonable  ? 
Suppose  the  husband  was  a  milksop — as  many 
husbands  were,  (she  knew  of  one  such  in  partic 
ular,)  and  the  wife  an  angel-hearted  creature — as 
wives  were  apt  to  be;  —  would  it  be  right  then? 
Suppose  the  husband  intemperate ;  was  it  right  to 
submit  to  such  a  beast?  Her  pure  soul  revolted  at 
the  thought.  Again:  Paul  had  written  that  it  is  a 
shame  for  women  to  speak  in  public.  These  views 
revealed  the  character  of  Paul.  He  would  have 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTERS.        267 

women  submit  to  the  most  brutish  men,  and  never 
open  their  lips  to  proclaim  their  wrongs  ?  What 
had  the  free  and  enlightened  women  of  the  Nine 
teenth  Century  to  say  to  such  notions?  Would 
they  admit  them  to  be  inspired?  Would  they 
submit  to  such  tyranny  and  outrage,  because  the 
authority  that  sanctioned  it  was  found  in  the  Bible  ? 
The  Bible !  The  book  was  full  of  woman's  degra 
dation.  There,  for  instance,  was  an  account  of  a 
woman  who  wiped  a  man's  feet  with  the  hairs  of 
her  head.  She  did  not  remember  the  names  of  the 
parties  in  the  transaction,  but  it  was  outrageous. 
For  her  part  she  repudiated  the  book  that  sanc 
tioned  such  things.  (Confusion,  hisses,  and  ap 
plause.) 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  now  took  the  platform.  It 
might  be  thought  superfluous,  he  observed,  for 
him  to  express  his  sentiments  with  regard  to  that 
old  book.  His  estimate  of  it  was  already  widely 
known.  In  the  first  series  of  his  Grand  Flummery, 
he  had  disclosed  its  utter  lack  of  authenticity,  its 
manifold  inconsistencies  and  essential  shabbiness. 
It  was  not  necessary,  he  trusted,  to  recall  his  argu 
ments  before  that  enlightened  and  candid  audience. 
(Hear,  heai.)  His  works,  he  believed,  had  been 
very  generally  read  —  at  least  by  all  inquiring  and 


268  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

independent  minds — and  if  so,  his  triumphant 
reasoning  against  the  authority  and  claims  of  the 
Bible,  must  be  generally  familiar.  Let  it  suffice, 
then,  to  say  that  he  entirely  coincided  with  the 
views  of  Mr.  Subsoil,  and  he  not  only  regarded  the 
Bible  as  an  imposition,  but  all  branches  of  the 
Church  as  schools  of  ignorance  and  prejudice,  and 
as  hindrances  to  the  true  development  of  man. 
(Hear,  hear.)  He  was  a  bold  man,  and  feared  no 
hypocrite ;  he  would  therefore  say  that  he  had  no 
faith  in  what  was  called  Divine  Eevelation,  no 
confidence  in  any  Church,  no  respect  for  any  cler 
gyman.  The  world  might  know  it,  and  make  the 
most  of  it.  (Great  sensation.) 

Mr.  MEEKERMAN  desired  to  know  whether  he 
might  ask  the  gentleman  a  few  questions. 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS.     As  many  as  you  like. 

Mr.  M.     Have  you  the  Bible  in  your  house  ? 

Mr  S.  Yes,  and  last  year's  Almanac.  (Laugh 
ter.) 

Mr.  M.  Did  not  your  departed  wife  read  that 
Book  during  her  sickness,  and  experience  great 
comfort  from  it  ? 

Mr.  S.,  (hesitating.)  What  does  that  prove  ?  It 
was  the  force  of  education. 

Mr.  M.     Did  you  not  call   upon  a  clergyman, 


THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  269 

and  ask  him  to  visit  your  wife  ?  Did  she  not  ex 
press  great  spiritual  gratification  in  his  conversa 
tion  ?  And  after  her  breath  had  passed  away,  did 
you  not  request  the  clergyman  to  officiate  at  her 
funeral  ? 

Mr.  S.,  (in  much  confusion.)  I  don't  see,  sir, 
what  all  this  proves. 

Mr.  M.  It  proves,  sir,  that  the  Bible,  the 
Church,  and  the  Ministry,  which  you  affect  to 
hold  so  light,  have  rendered  you  a  service  for 
which  j^ou  have  not  the  decency  to  be  grateful. 
(Immense  sensation  and  applause.  Convention 
adjourns.) 


Wednesday  evening  the  Convention  assembled 
amid  much  excitement  and  some  tokens  of  ill-na 
ture.  Turbulent  little  duets  passed  off  among  the 
delegates,  closed  now  and  then  by  a  profane  ejacu 
lation  and  an  angry  shrug.  Certain  of  the  fe 
male  members  elevated  their  voices  to  an  ominous 
pitch,  and  waved  their  fans  with  most  laborious 
energy.  There  seemed  to  be  an  excess  of  heat  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  platform. 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  came  in  with  the  air  of  a  great 
wrestler  who  has  just  experienced  a  tremendous 


270  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

fall.  The  sense  of  defeat  was  mingled  with  a 
secret  irritation.  Some  applause  greeted  him  as 
he  mounted  the  platform,  but,  unhappily,  the  effect 
was  spoiled  by  a  storm  of  hisses. 

Mr.  BELCHER,  the  President,  proceeded  to  call 
the  Convention  to  order,  when 

Mr.  MEEKERMAN  appeared  in  the  Hall.  This 
gentleman  was  welcomed  with  salvos  of  applause, 
in  which,  however,  the  delegates  upon  the  platform 
and  the  secondary  lights  were  not  observed  to  join. 
The  President,  in  a  voice  somewhat  wrathful,  com- 
manded  order :  directing,  at  the  same  time,  a  sig 
nificant  glance  toward  the  object  of  this  untimely 
enthusiasm,  as  though  he  privately  considered  him 
responsible  for  the  disturbance. 

The  noise  having  somewhat  abated,  Mr.  FLUNK 
EY  obtained  the  floor.  He  recommended  that  the 
Resolutions  be  laid  on  the  table.  (Groans  and 
applause.)  He  had  nothing  to  object  to  the  Reso 
lutions  in  the  abstract,  but  he  thought  the  commu 
nity  was  hardly  ripe  for  their  adoption.  They 
were  too  pointed — they  offended  venerable  preju 
dices — they  were  adapted  to  terrify  timid  persons. 
He  thought  the  Convention  would  stand  fairer,  and 
exert  a  wider  influence,  if  it  avoided  putting  forth 
such  extreme  opinions. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  271 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  was  ashamed  to  hear  such  senti 
ments  advanced  from  that  floor.  He  had  hoped 
better  things  of  the  gentleman  who  had  just  spo 
ken.  For  his  own  part,  he  was  no  time-server,  no 
hypocrite  ;  he  thanked  God — if  there  was  a  God— 
for  that.  He  was  not  in  favor  of  mincing  matters. 
If  the  Eesolutions  expressed  the  sense  of  the  Con 
vention,  then  let  the  Convention  say  so.  He 
scorned  to  compromise  with  men's  prejudices  and 
ignorance  and  cant.  (Hear,  hear!)  For  what  pur 
pose  was  the  Convention  called,  he  would  beg  to 
inquire  ?  Was  it  to  meekly  ask  the  world  whether 
it  would  yield  up  its  pet  delusions  ?  Was  it  to 
entreat  what  the  gentleman  called  community  to 
forego  its  lies  and  its  humbugs,  and  to  accept  truth 
and  common  sense?  (Laughter.)  Or  was  it  not, 
rather,  the  object  of  the  Convention  to  compel,  by 
its  own  inherent  force,  the  renunciation  of  old 
errors  and  tyrannical  social  forms,  and  the  adoption 
of  new  truths  and  a  better  state  of  society.  This 
was  his  view  of  the  matter ;  therefore  he  was  for 
pitching  into  humbug  with  all  his  might,  and  stand 
ing  by  the  Resolutions  at  every  hazard. 

Mr.  FLUNKEY  resumed  the  floor  with  some  heat. 
His  friend  (Mr.  SUBSOIL)  had  manifested  a  censo 
rious,  rash,  and  headstrong  spirit.  He  would 


272  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

appeal  to  the  Convention  whether  that  gentleman 
was  not  universally  known  as  a  wilful,  perverse, 
arid  every  way  impracticable  individual. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  indignantly  repelled  the  charge. 
He  would  stake  his  reputation,  as  a  man  of  rea 
sonableness  and  docility,  on  the  judgment  of  his 
peers.  (Sensation  and  cries  of  "Order,  order!") 

Mr.  FLUNKEY  resumed.  He  did  not  wish  to  be 
severe  on  the  foibles  of  the  gentleman. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  denied  having  any  foibles. 

(Cries  of  "order,  order!"  Several  gentlemen 
upon  their  feet.  President,  very  red  in  the  face, 
thumping  the  table  furiously.) 

Mr.  FLUNKEY,  after  repeated  efforts,  resumed  his 
remarks.  The  gentleman  certainly  mistook  the 
temper  of  public  opinion — the  feeling  among  the 
masses,  on  the  subject  of  religion  —  if  he  supposed 
that  those  ultra  Resolutions  would  go  down.  He 
had  been  revolving  the  matter  in  his  mind,  for  the 
last  few  hours,  and  he  wras  amazed  as  he  thought 
of  the  enormous  sums  of  money  invested  in  Bibles, 
in  this  country,  and  of  the  unlimited  stock  that 
had  been  taken  in  churches.  .He  had  seen  it  esti 
mated,  as  he  would  candidly  acknowledge,  that 
the  dogs  of  this  Union  cost  more  than  the  clergy- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  273 

men ;  but  then  the  very  fact  that  the  black-coat 
gentry  had  been  brought  into  comparison ,  with 
those  useful  animals,  conveyed  a  hint  that  they 
were  regarded  as  indispensable.  (Hear,  heai !) 
The  gentleman  might  be  assured,  that  where  so 
much  capital  was  invested,  there  was  a  large  degree 
of  public  confidence  in  the  value  of  the  stock. 
(Laughter  and  applause.) 

Mr.  D.  I.  S.  SECTION  acknowledged  that  Mr. 
Flunkey's  view  of  the  subject  struck  him  with 
uncommon  force.  The  argument  was  new  to  him. 
He  did  not  see  how  that  gentleman's  reasoning 
could  be  rebutted.  For  his  own  part,  he  had 
observed  a  very  decided  attachment  on  the  part  of 
community  to  the  Bible  and  the  institutions  of 
Religion,  generally.  It  was  a  thing  to  be  deplored, 
doubtless,  but  such  was  the  fact.  He,  with  his 
eminent  colleagues  upon  the  platform,  might  be 
blessed  with  a  clearer  reason  and  a  brighter  mental 
illumination ;  but  they  should  remember  that  the 
great  mass  of  society  are  not  thus  beautifully 
developed.  He  might  be  satisfied  that  a  volume  of 
The  Grand  Flummery  was  worth  more  than  all  the 
psalms  of  David,  the  ethics  of  Jesus,  and  the  the 
ology  of  Paul;  but  the  difficulty  was  to  make  this 

notion  take   hold   of  community  at  large.     The 
12* 


274  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

people  persisted  in  preferring  the  Bible  to  the 
best  of  their  philosophical  publications  —  especially 
in  cases  of  extremity  —  and  he  had  observed  with 
utter  amazement,  that  the  least  developed  priest 
was  listened  to  with  deeper  attention  by  dying 
men  than  the  most  transcendent  seer  in  all  their 
company.  Even  persons  who  ridiculed  these  sacred 
illusions  when  they  were  strong  and  prosperous, 
were  wonderfully  prone  to  take  refuge  in  them 
whenever  they  fell  under  adversity,  or  fancied 
death  at  their  elbows.  He  had  sometimes  regarded 
it  as  an  incurable  hallucination. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  was  happy  to  declare  that  he  was 
utterly  unmoved  by  the  remarks  of  the  two  gen 
tlemen  who  had  last  spoken.  He  still  stood  by 
the  Resolutions.  He  was  ready  to  give  them  his 
voice  and  his  vote,  in  any  extremity— -before  any 
amount  of  opposition.  To  show  what  importance 
he  attached  to  the  prejudices  of  ignorant  men  and 
superstitious  women,  in  favor  of  the  Bible  and 
priestcraft,  he  would  relate  a  circumstance  that 
happened  in  his  own  family. 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  doubted  the  propriety  of  men 
tioning  the  circumstance,  in  view  of  the  present 
temper  of  the  Convention.  (Cries  of  "  silence ! 
hear  him!  Go  on!") 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTEES.  275 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  trusted  that  he  was  a  competent 
judge  of  what  it  was  proper  to  relate.  He,  there 
fore,  repelled  the  interference  of  his  colleague. 
The  circumstance  to  which  he  alluded  was  this:  — 
About  a  year  since,  his  eldest  son  became  fatally 
sick.  He  lay  upon  his  bed  six  weeks,  in  the  face 
of  death.  The  lad,  though  apparently  rational 
enough  before  his  illness,  and  never  sophisticated 
by  the  mummeries  of  priestcraft,  took  a  silly  fancy 
while  he  lay  stretched  upon  his  sick  bed.  He 
wanted  his  mother  to  read  to  him  from  the  Bible. 
This  she  was  inclined  to  do,  but  he  (Mr.  Subsoil) 
forbade  it.  (Loud  hisses  and  groans.)  He  was 
resolved  to  stand  by  his  principles,  and  he  would 
have  his  principles  vindicated  in  his  own  house. 
The  boy  wanted  to  see  the  parish  minister.  To 
this,  Mr.  Subsoil  would  by  no  means  consent.  The 
poor  lad  entreated,  but  Mr.  Subsoil  was  not  to  be 
moved,  though  it  was  hard,  he  confessed,  to  stand 
by  his  principles  in  such  a  case.  Still,  every  body 
knew  that  sickness  weakened  the  nervous  system, 
and  that  the  reason  was  apt  to  be  clouded  in  such 
a  state.  He  held  that  the  wishes  of  a  person  in 
that  condition,  when  manifestly  unreasonable, 
should  no  more  be  regarded  than  those  of  a 
lunatic!  (Loud  cries  of  "shame!  shame!") 


276  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  hoped  that  the  gentleman 
now  saw  that  his  statement  was  untimely,  and 
disastrous  to  the  Resolutions. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  saw  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  ex 
pected  to  be  reviled  for  his  fearless  honesty — it 
was  the  way  with  human  nature — but  he  felt  more 
confidence  than  ever  that  the  Resolutions  would 
be  sustained.  (Groans  and  cries  of  "No,  no, 
110 ! ") 

Mr.  FLUNKEY  moved  that  the  Resolutions  be  laid 
on  the  table. 

Seconded  by  Mr.  D.  I.  S.  SECTION. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  again  upon  his  taps.  (Great  hissing, 
and  cries  of  "Question,  question!") 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  ditto.  (Renewed  hissing,  and 
persistent  calls  for  "Question,  question!  ") 

Motion  carried  triumphantly.  Resolutions  de 
funct.  Convention  adjourned  amid  uproarious 
cheering. 


THURSDAY  MORNING.  At  the  hour  appointed 
for  the  meeting  of  the  Convention,  an  immense 
crowd  had  taken  possession  of  the  Hall.  Beside 
the  Seers,  secondary  lights,  and  neophytes,  there 
was  a  large  representation  of  the  citizens  of  Tan- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  277 

gletown — attracted,  doubtless,  by  the  rumor  of 
yesterday's  debates,  of  which  we  gave  so  elabo 
rate  and  edifying  a  report. 

When  the  worthy  President's  hammer  descended 
upon  the  table,  the  audience  became  silent  with 
expectation,  and 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  took  the  Platform.  The  well- 
known  author  of  The  Grand  Flummery  was  greeted 
with  three  hearty  cheers  from  the  secondary  lights, 
and  by  protracted  coughing  from  other  quarters  of 
the  house.  Two  or  three  old  fogies  openly  took 
snuff. 

Mr.  S.  proceeded  to  say  that,  thus  far,  the  Con 
vention  had  not  accomplished  much.  He  feared  it 
had  not  answered  the  expectations  of  its  friends. 
The  debates  of  yesterday — so  far  from  having  ad 
vanced  the  objects  of  the  Convention — had  in  re 
ality  subverted  them.  Gentlemen  on  that  floor, 
while  professing  to  defend  the  Kesolutions,  or  at 
least  avowing  their  convictions  of  their  correctness 
in  the  abstract,  had,  by  an  injudicious  train  of  re 
mark,  contrived  to  involve  them  in  odium.  (Sen 
sation.)  So  the  resolutions  had  been  lost,  and  the 
Convention,  instead  of  advancing,  had  retrograded, 
in  public  opinion.  He  hoped  that  the  gentlemen 
who  might  occupy  the  platform  to-day,  would  be 


278  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

guided  by  prudence,  and  avoid  making  unne 
cessary  concessions,  that  tended  to  weaken  their 
arguments,  and  bring  suspicion  upon  the  measures 
they  were  advocating. 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  felt  that  he  had  been  assailed  in  the 
ungenerous  remarks  of  the  speaker  who  had  just 
taken  his  seat.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  made  re 
sponsible,  in  the  gentleman's  harangue,  for  the 
loss  of  the  Resolutions.  He  repelled  the  insinua 
tion.  If  any  gentleman  on  that  floor  was  re 
sponsible  for  the  calamity  alluded  to,  it  was  the 
gentleman  who  had  last  spoken.  For  the  glaring 
inconsistency  of  which  he  had  been  convicted  by 
a  gentleman  then  present,  (Mr.  Meekerman,)  had 
inspired  the  first  serious  expression  of  hostility 
toward  the  Resolutions.  He  marvelled,  therefore, 
at  the  impertinence  of  his  distinguished  colleague, 
in  charging  upon  others  that  for  which  he  was  him 
self  chiefly  responsible.  (Laughter  and  cheers.) 

Mr.  SPONTANEOUS  claimed  the  right  to  defend 
himself.  (Outrageous  confusion ;  shower  of  pea 
nuts  and  gravel  from  the  gallery.) 

Mr.  FLUNKEY  thought  that  he  had  a  right  to  the 
floor.  (Cries  of  "Hear  him! — hear  the  dapper 
little  scribe!") 

The  President,  beating   the  table  and  radiating 


THE  TANGLETOWN  LETTEES.        279 

fiery  wrath,  commanded  silence.  He  would  toler 
ate  no  personal  altercation  among  the  delegates. 
They  had  assembled  to  discuss  and  settle  great 
questions ;  not  to  indulge  in  childish  resentments. 
If  the  Business  Committee  had  anything  worthy 
the  Convention,  they  would  please  present  it  forth 
with.  (Dog,  from  the  gallery,  "  Bow,  wow,  woo — 
oo !  "  Scandalous  laughter  and  cheers.) 

Mrs.  HARROWSCRATCH  asked  to  entertain  the 
Convention  with  some  new  views  of  Social  Ethics, 
setting  forth  Nature's  true  philosophy  of  the  Har 
monic  Conjunction  of  the  Sexes,  explaining  the 
beneficent  law  of  Affiliation,  and  certain  mysteries 
of  the  Psychological  Experience,  in  their  relation 
to  Health  and  Happiness.  (Profound  attention, 
varied  by  some  mischievous  winking !) 

The  President  could  entertain  no  business  that 
did  not  come  through  the  proper  committee.  Order 
was  heaven's  first  law.  (Cries  of  "  Hear  her!  hear 
the  brave  reformer  !  ") 

Mr.  SUBSOIL  begged  to  say,  as  Chairman  of  the 
Business  Committee,  that  no  more  resolutions  had 
been  prepared,  and  that,  for  his  part,  he  was  ready 
to  hear  the  fair  champion  of  Social  Keform,  whose 
intelligence  and  intrepidity  promised  to  inaugurate 
a  new  era  for  her  sex.  (Cheers.)  For  one,  he  ro~ 


280  THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

joiced  in  the  lofty  ambition  which  was  beginning 
to  actuate  the  women  of  America.  (Hear,  hear !) 
He  was  glad  that  they  scorned  the  confinement  of 
the  domestic  sphere,  and  aspired  to  mingle  theii 
activities  with  all  the  concerns  of  life.  (Applause.) 
There  wras  no  good  reason  why  woman  should  not 
march  side  by  side  with  man,  in  all  his  arduous 
undertakings.  The  aborigines  of  this  country  had 
a  worthy  idea  of  the  dignity  of  woman.  When  an 
Indian  went  forth  to  hunt,  his  wife  marched  gal 
lantly  with  him  through  the  snow — in  the  very 
costume  which  is  illustrated  on  this  platform ;  and 
when  he  had  shot  the  game,  she  bore  it  bravely  to 
the  wigwam  on  her  shoulders!  (Consternation 
among  the  strong-minded.)  Some  of  the  nations 
of  Europe,  too,  entertain  liberal  notions  concerning 
the  sphere  of  woman.  Travelers  tell  us,  that  the 
husband — imbued  with  none  of  the  silly  prejudices 
so  prevalent  in  this  country — yokes  his  wife  to 
the  plow,  by  the  side  of  an  ox,  and  so  permits  her 
to  participate  in  all  his  achievements !  (Unbounded 
laughter  and  applause.) 

Mrs.  HARROWSCRATCH  (very  red  and  angry,) 
would  ask  the  Moderator  whether  it  accorded  with 
his  sense  of  justice  and  courtesy,  to  allow  herself 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  281 

and  her  sisterhood  to  be  deliberately  and  publicly 
insulted?  (Deep  emotion.) 

The  Moderator  was  surprised  by  the  question. 
He  had  understood  the  gentleman's  speech  to  be 
highly  laudatory  of  that  feminine  ambition,  which 
was  known  to  characterize  Mrs.  H.  and  her  worthy 
colleagues.  How  that  notorious  lady  could  feel 
herself  insulted  by  so  eloquent  and  erudite  a  com 
mentary  upon  her  cause,  was  inexplicable  to  him. 

(Great  applause  and  tumultuous  laughter ;  under 
which  Mrs.  Harrowscratch  indignantly  leaves  the 
Hall.) 

Mr.  TRICKELBOSOM  begged  the  patience  of  the 
Convention  for  a  few  minutes.  He  was  aware  that 
he  was  unknown  to  the  eminent  members  of  that 
body.  Yet  he  could  assure  them  that  he  sympa 
thized  most  heartily  with  their  desire  to  revolu 
tionize  society.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  had  felt  the 
galling  inconveniences  of  the  present  order  of 
things,  as  severely  as  most  of  the  honorable  gen 
tlemen.  He  had  suffered,  most  of  his  life,  from  the 
arbitrary  regulations,  and  insensate  prejudices,  of 
this  deformed  condition  of  society.  Having  con 
tracted  debts  beyond  his  ability  to  pay — all  with 
the  laudable  intention  of  making  himself  more 


282  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

agreeable  in  genteel  circles — he  had  been  haunted 
like  a  criminal  by  the  officers  of  the  law.  Having 
bound  himself  to  one  woman  for  life,  in  conformity 
to  the  usages  of  the  day,  and  haying  found  in  his 
heart  a  capacity  for  loving  at  least  a  dozen,  he  had 
been  accused  of  infidelity,  and  his  acquaintance 
had  been  openly  cut  in  more  than  forty  instances. 
(Tremendous  sensation  about  the  platform.  Among 
the  outsiders,  cheers  and  tittering.) 

When  he  heard  of  this  Convention — Mr.  Trick- 
elbosom  resumed — the  light  of  hope  was  kindled 
in  his  heart.  He  saw  some  prospect  of  retrieving 
his  condition.  Only  let  society  be  pulled  down, 
and  something  might  turn  up.  He  had  made  sac 
rifices  to  attend  this  great  convocation.  He  had 
faced  his  washerwoman  in  her  very  den,  and  sub 
jected  himself  to  the  persecutions  of  nine  tailors, 
that  he  might  meet  this  unparalleled  delegation. 
(Cheers.)  When  he  entered  the  Hall,  and  gazed 
upon  the  sturdy  legions  of  Reform,  his  bosom 
swelled  with  exultation.  (Applause.)  When  he 
thought  on  the  probable  results  of  that  meeting, 
he  had  felt  like  defying  the  world !  (Extraordinary 
cheering.)  But,  notwithstanding  these  sanguine 
hopes — the  Convention  would  pardon  his  plain- 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  283 

ness — he  felt  that  the  event  had  not  justified  its 
promise.  He  felt  disappointed.  The  Convention 
had  expended  a  great  deal  of  shot,  but  it  had  not 
done  execution.  He  feared  it  would  all  pass  off  in 
smoke.  (Groans,  and  rapping  of  the  President's 
hammer.)  The  Convention  ought  to  pardon  the 
frankness  of  a  desperate  man.  Society  yet  stood 
upon  its  legs,  in  spite  of  all  their  fine  talking.  His 
personal  circumstances  were  not  a  whit  improved. 
Iron  adversity,  the  neglect  of  friends,  the  slanders 
of  enemies,  the  rapacity  of  creditors,  the  lean  hor 
rors  of  destitution — such  was  his  miserable  portion. 
For  God's  sake,  if  the  gentlemen  were  in  earnest 
in  their  undertaking,  let  them  carry  it  out  to  a 
practical  issue.  At  least,  he  trusted  that  some 
gentleman  would  advance  him  five  dollars  without 
delay,  as  an  earnest  of  the  sincerity  of  his  trust  in 
"the  good  tune  coming."  (Great  disgust  among 
the  Seers,  and  resounding  plaudits  from  various 
parts  of  the  Hall.  At  length,  amid  muffled  swear 
ing  on  one  hand,  and  tragic  gesticulations  on  the 
other,  Mr.  Trickelbosom  is  carried  out,  fainting.) 


284  THE    TANGLETOWX    LETTERS. 

[We  regret  to  state  that,  at  this  stage  of  the 
proceedings,  our  reporter  was  seized  with  lockjaw, 
in  consequence  of  which  deplorable  accident,  we 
are  left  in  ignorance  of  the  ultimate  transactions 
of  the  Convention.  We  infer,  however,  that  Society 
still  survives  this  unparalleled  assault.] 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  285 


TANGLETOWN, 

AT   THE   LATEST   ADVICES. 

IN    WHICH    THE    EDITOR  ARRANGES    THE  FINAL  TABLEAUX,  AND 

PATS    HIS    RESPECTS    TO    THE    COMPANY  WITH    THANKS IT 

BEING    THE    MOST     IMPERTINENT    ACT    IN     THE    WHOLE    PER 
FORMANCE. 

ANTICIPATING  the  extraordinary  interest  sure  to 
be  created  by  the  preceding  papers,  and  the  anxiety 
which  curious  readers  must  feel  in  the  ultimate 
fortunes  of  certain  persons  mentioned  therein,  the 
present  veracious  editor  resolved  to  visit  Tangle- 
town  in  person,  that  he  might  give  an  authentic 
report  of  the  condition  of  things  there,  down  to 
the  actual  moment  of  putting  these  sheets  to  press. 

Being  an  idle  sort  of  person  by  nature  —  as  his 
late  employment  must  have  indicated — he  took 
the  journey  without  the  least  inconvenience,  and 
hereby  presents  the  results  of  his  faithful  inquiries. 

Mr.  Timotheus  Trap — to  whose  hospitable  door 
I  speedily  wended  my  way — had  heard  some  rumor 
of  the  publicity  to  which  his  letters  had  attained; 
and  I  must  confess,  in  justice  to  the  old  gentle- 


286  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

man's  modesty,  that  he  was  not  at  all  flattered  by 
the  circumstance.  He,  indeed,  rated  me  soundly 
for  having  presumed  to  put  him  into  the  "  public 
prints,"  and  inquired  with  much  trepidation,  "  what 
the  people  could  think  of  being  asked  to  read  such 
a  batch  of  letters." 

I  admitted  that  some  few  readers,  of  very  infe 
rior  judgment,  considered  the  letters  a  bore,  and 
wondered  if  they  were  to  be  "spun  out"  to  the 
crack  of  doom;  but,  I  added,  that  all  competent 
judges  considered  them  excellent — always  except 
ing,  of  course,  the  various  classes  of  people  who 
were  "shown  up"  therein. 

"  Lord  bless  me,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Trap, 
"  your  assurance  has  scarcely  a  crumb  of  comfort 
in  it.  Why,  if  my  memory  serves  me,  some  of  the 
most  plausible  drivelling,  and  most  successful  hum 
bug  of  the  day,  come  in  for  some  gentle  casti- 
gation  in  those  letters.  I  shall  become  the  most 
unpopular  man  alive  !  This  paper,  in  which  you 
have  published  my  letters  —  what  sort  of  people 
does  it  circulate  among?  No  spiritualists,  or  new 
school  females,  among  the  subscribers,  I  hope ! " 

"Do  not  be  troubled  about  the  aggressive  tone 
of  the  letters/'  returned  I,  "  that  is  one  of  their 
best  points;  and  if  they  have  fallen  under  the  eyes 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  287 

of  the  spiritualists,  and  that  turbulent  class  of 
females  known  as  the  strong-minded,  so  much  the 
better.  A  considerable  amount  of  abuse,  in  the 
present  stage  of  the  business,  would  amazingly 
accelerate  the  sale  of  the  book." 

Mr.  Trap's  spectacles  here  fairly  hopped  from 
his  nose. 

"The  book!"  he  ejaculated;  "do  you  tell  me 
that  you  are  actually  going  to  put  my  silly  letters 
into  a  BOOK?" 

"Even  so,"  said  I,  "the  thing  was  all  settled 
weeks  ago.  There  has  been  a  tremendous  strife 
among  the  booksellers,  I  assure  you,  for  the  pos 
session  of  the  work ;  but  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  give  it  to  one  of  the  poorest  of  the  tribe,  that 
he  may  build  up  his  fortune  out  of  the  profits!  " 

Mr.  Trap — replacing  his  spectacles — looked  at 
me  very  sharply  for  an  instant,  as  though  he  in 
wardly  regarded  me  as  the  most  nonsensical  person 
he  had  ever  met. 

"But  Lord  bless  my  soul!"  exclaimed  the  old 
gentleman,  suddenly,  "if  you  put  me  into  a  book, 
the  critics  will  have  me,  past  redemption,  will  they 
not?  And,  sir,  do  you  think  I  shall  be  able  to 
sleep  or  rest,  under  the  possibility  of  being  minced 
and  slashed  out  of  all  mercy,  by  those  morose  and 


288  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

implacable  fellows  ?  I  seem  to  recollect  that  one 
of  the  poets  died,  outright,  under  their  torture." 

"  Compose  yourself,"  answered  I,  in  as  soothing 
a  tone  as  I  could  command ;  "  you  quite  exaggerate 
the  ferocity  of  those  gentlemen.  Believe  one  who 
has  experienced  their  clemency — they  are  much 
more  placable  than  your  fears  have  permitted  you 
to  imagine.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  not  one 
probability  in  a  hundred  that  they  will  read  the 
book,  in  which  case  they  can  not  with  any  con 
science  condemn  it,  but  the  instinct  of  humanity 
will  rather  prompt  them  to  record  a  favorable  ver 
dict.  But  again :  suppose  one  of  the  fry,  here 
and  there  —  undaunted  by  the  cargoes  of  printed 
paper  deposited  upon  his  table  —  actually  addresses 
himself  to  the  delightful  duty  of  reading  our  book, 
page  by  page ;  I  think  it  is  not  in  human  nature, 
that  he  should  close  the  volume  in  a  vindictive 
spirit — especially  as  I  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
insinuate  a  number  of  deprecatory  notes,  tending 
to  mitigate  any  rising  asperity  in  the  critic,  and  to 
secure,  if  not  entire  approval,  at  least  an  amiable 
toleration." 

Mr.  Trap  being  thus  gradually  pacified — or  at 
least  argued  into  speechless  perplexity — I  stated 
what  was  requisite  to  the  completion  of  my  pro- 


THE    TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  289 

ject,  and  begged  that  he  would  give  me  the  very 
latest  news  concerning  those  people  in  whom  he 
had  interested  the  public. 

"And  first  of  all,"  said  I,  "  we  want  you  to  tell 
us  something  about  Herman — it  has  occurred  to 
some  of  us  simple  folks  that  we  would  like  to  send 
him  to  Congress." 

"Had  you  arrived  half  an  hour  earlier,"  returned 
Mr.  Trap,  "you  would  have  met  Herman  face  to 
face.  He  was  just  here,  assisting  me  to  arrange  a 
little  festival  for  Aurora,  in  celebration  of  our 
darling's  birthday.  The  day  after  to-morrow  she 
will  be  twelve  years  old,  though  her  peculiar  ripe 
ness  of  countenance  makes  her  appear  much  older. 
I  need  not  say  that  she  is  the  pride  and  delight  of 
my  childless  old  age.  In  this  innocent  child  I  see 
renewed,  as  it  were,  the  perfect  beauty  of  one  — 
but  you  know  that  sad  history.  Pardon  me,  you 
were  inquiring  about  Herman.  I  am  glad  you  and 
your  friends  feel  an  interest  in  Mm.  I  can  assure 
you  he  is  rising  daily  in  public  estimation.  The 
ground  which  he  occupied  in  politics  for  a  long 
time  prevented  an  appreciation  of  him,  and  his 
natural  position  in  society  was  not  over  advanta 
geous;  but  a  great  revolution  in  politics  has  trans 
pired  here  in  Tangletown,  and  Mr.  Gabriel  Upper- 
13 


290  THE    TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

ten  has  openly  recognized  our  friend  at  the  ASSOCJ 
ation  Eooms  —  so  you  perceive  his  fortunes  are  in 
the  ascendant.  There  was,  indeed,  a  proposition  to 
elect  him  mayor  of  Tangletown,  and  I  think  the 
suggestion  would  have  been  executed  had  Herman 
belonged  to  Dr.  Fiblong's  church." 

"  Now  as  regards  your  notion  of  sending  Herman 
to  Congress,"  added  Mr.  Trap,  "I  can  not  bring  my 
heart  to  consent  to  it.  Has  not  our  whole  political 
history  shown  that  the  greatest  peril  in  which  one 
can  place  his  public  virtue  and  manly  honor,  is  to 
enter  Congress?  Why,  sir,  when  I  remember  how 
many  men  have  been  stripped  of  self-respect,  honor, 
fame,  in  that  synagogue  of  temptation,  in  my  day, 
I  am  appalled.  There  seems  some  occult,  diabolical 
influence  about  the  place,  which  few  mortals  can 
encounter  without  moral  ruin.  Much  as  I  esteem 
Herman — much  as  I  confide  in  him — I  confess  I 
would  not  voluntarily  subject  him  to  the  ordeal.  I 
feel  how  desirable  it  is  to  have  at  least  a  decent 
minority  of  honesty  at  the  Capitol;  but  I  shrink 
from  thrusting  so  dear  a  friend  into  temptation ; 
and  though  it  be  every  man's  duty  to  resist  the 
devil,  I  think  prudence  requires  that  we  should 
not  rashly  evoke  him." 

I  forebore  to  argue  the  point  —  especially  as  I 


THE  TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  291 

thought  I  detected  a  little  latent  waggery  in  Mr. 
Trap's  words  —  and  proceeded  to  inquire  what  had 
been  the  result  of  the  dissensions  in  the  church. 

"Bad  enough,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Trap  ;  "  the  two  par 
ties  grew  more  and  more  inimical,  until  our  excel 
lent  pastor  resigned  and  went  away.  It  was  very 
difficult  to  settle  a  successor ;  for  the  parish  could 
no  more  unite  upon  a  new  man  than  they  had 
agreed  upon  the  old  one.  At  length  it  was  voted 
almost  unanimously  to  recall  Mr.  Mann.  He  de 
clined,  however,  reenterring  our  hornet's  nest;  and 
so  we  went  on,  at  a  deplorable  rate,  some  months 
longer,  and  then  the  church  was  closed  altogether. 
Finally,  God  brought  about  a  change  of  sentiment 
in  the  community,  touching  certain  political  ques 
tions,  and  the  Anti-Slavery  feeling  so  predominated 
in  the  parish  that  we  were  able  to  settle  an  up 
right,  independent  minister." 

"And  Dr.  Fiblong  —  does  he  yet  flourish  in 
Tangletown?" 

"  He  does ;  but  you  will  be  edified  to  learn  that 
his  position  is  somewhat  changed.  He  no  longer 
defends  the  Fugitive  Slave  Bill,  which  is  very  for 
tunate  for  him,  inasmuch  as  that  merciful  piece  of 
Legislation  has  now  scarcely  an  apologist  in  Tangle- 
town.  The  fact  is,  the  Kansas-Nebraska  enterprise 


292  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

bad  begun  to  awaken  our  community  to  a  sense 
of  the  nature  and  purposes  of  slavery,  when,  only 
a  few  months  since,  an  attempt  was  actually  made 
to  arrest  a  fugitive  here  in  our  midst.  The  slave 
was  safely  transported  into  Canada,  and  the  foiled 
oppressor  found  it  for  his  interest  to  depart,  in  the 
opposite  direction,  in  quite  as  headlong  haste. 
This  circumstance  completed  the  revolution  of 
public  sentiment  in  Tangletown ;  and,  as  a  natural 
consequence,  powerfully  influenced  the  convictions 
of  Dr.  Fiblong  on  the  Slavery  question  in  general." 

While  Mr.  Trap  was  thus  expressing  himself, 
two  boys  came  dashing  into  the  room,  like  a  pair 
of  wild  buffaloes,  with  matted  hair  and  tattered 
jackets,  and  voices  not  attuned  to  any  known  mel 
ody.  In  their  dare-devil  impetuosity,  they  nearly 
overturned  Mr.  Trap  from  his  chair ;  and,  positively, 
the  old  gentleman  blinked  and  grinned,  as  if  in 
momentary  terror  of  broken  limbs. 

It  required  all  our  friend's  authority  to  expel 
these  juvenile  barbarians;  and  when,  at  length, 
they  had  disappeared  with  a  whoop  that  made 
the  house  ring,  Mr.  Trap  sat  down  in  evident 
mortification. 

"This  is  a  specimen  of  our  Peskiewitch's 
coming  generation,  I  suppose,"  said  I. 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  293 

"Even  so,"  answered  Mr.  Trap.  "Their  father 
is  so  exclusively  occupied  by  the  spirits,  and  by 
the  various  concerns  of  reform,  that  he  has  no 
more  care  of  these  poor  lads  than  of  the  sons  of 
the  grand  Khan.  They  are  now  so  grown  as  to 
set  their  mother  at  defiance;  and  they  baffle  my 
feeble  efforts  to  teach  them  decency.  The  conse 
quence  is  they  are  growing  up  lawless  as  Tartars, 
and  bid  fair  to  become  as  eminent  scapegraces  as 
Tangletown  ever  produced." 

I  ventured  to  conjecture  that  these  enterprising 
lads  might  be  occasionally  troublesome  to  a  person 
of  Mr.  Trap's  quiet  habits. 

"Ah,  that  they  are,"  said  our  venerable  friend, 
with  an  expressive  sigh;  "I  could  relate  many  a 
prank  they  have  played  at  my  expense.  And 
yet,"  he  added,  while  a  benevolent  smile  lighted 
up  his  countenance,  "I  believe  the  rollicking 
knaves  like  me  a  good  deal  after  all.  Would  you 
believe  it  ?  during  my  late  sickness,  that  tallest 
young  Arab  placed  fresh  flowers  at  the  head  of  my 
bed  every  morning ;  and,  when  fears  were  expressed 
that  I  might  not  recover,  both  the  little  rascals 
bellowed  like  bulls!" 

This  mention  of  the  young  Peskiewitches  led 
me  to  inquire  about  the  Rachels.  They  were  in 


294  THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

comfortable  circumstances,  the  mother  being 
housekeeper  in  one  of  the  hotels,  and  the  daugh 
ter  being  at  school,  while  the  son  was  undergoing 
medical  treatment,  with  a  fair  prospect  of  being 
restored  to  the  use  of  his  faculties.  In  spite  of 
Mr.  Trap's  modesty,  I  detected  his  ample  benefi 
cence  in  these  happy  changes.  What  a  contrast 
did  he  present  to  our  sordid  acquaintance,  Nicholas 
Brick! — the  pitiful  wretch,  who,  as  Mr.  Trap  ex 
pressed  it,  was  owned  by  his  tenants ;  and  who 
was  found  dead,  only  last  month,  with  a  huge  purse 
of  gold  clutched  to  his  heart!  % 

"  Poor  old  Nick !  "  said  Mr.  Trap,  when  I  had 
introduced  the  miser's  name;  "I  went  in  to  see 
him  the  day  before  he  died — having  heard,  indeed, 
that  he  was  not  likely  to  stand  it  long. 

"He  was  sitting  in  a  rickety  old  chair,  in  his 
bleak  and  naked  room,  with  his  head  bent  painfully 
over  an  old  book  of  accounts.  It  was  a  cold  day ; 
there  was  not  fire  enough  in  the  grate  to  render 
the  chamber  comfortable;  and  a  racking  cough, 
from  time  to  time,  occasioned  him  the  keenest  dis 
tress. 

"'You  seem  in  a  bad  state,'  remarked  I;  'we 
old  men  are  wearing  out,  Nicholas.' 

"'It's  nothing — nothing  to  be  afeard   of,'  re- 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  295 

turned  Nicholas,  darting  at  me  a  quick,  suspicious 
glance:  'I'll  be  out  again,  in  a  day  or  so — I've 
business  that  must  be  seen  to.' 

"  Saying  which,  in  his  hollow,  consumptive  voice, 
he  fell  into  a  frightful  fit  of  coughing. 

"'Men  at  our  age  can't  always  last,  Nicholas,' 
returned  I. 

"'You  don't  mean  that  I'm  old — so  very  old, 
that  is,'  retorted  poor  old  Nick;  'no,  no!  I  must 
live  —  some  time  yet  —  I  must  straighten  ^things 
out,  ye  see ! ' 

"Then  followed  another  spasm  of  the  cough. 
What  a  pathetic  spectacle  he  was ! 

"'My  concerns  are  very  troublesome,  just  now,' 
he  resumed;  'I've  the  most  rascally  tenants — 
woman  died  yesterday — owed  me  three  dollars — 
no  personal  property  to  secure  me !  Here  's  six 
dollars  loss  on  credit — man  run  away — twelve 
years  ago  :  —  ditto  Jones  —  ditto  Brown  —  total, 
sixty-nine  eighty — ' 

"So  he  rambled  on,  in  his  perplexed,  vacant 
wav — bending  his  ghastly  visage  over  the  book  — 
until  the  returning  fury  of  his  disease  diverted  his 
attention  for  an  instant. 

'"You  are  scarcely  comfortable  here,  I  should 
say ;  rather  cold,  is  n't  it  ?' 


293  'I UK    TAXGLETOWN    LETTERS. 

'"Cold?  0  dear,  no;  housekeeper  wanted  to 
heave  on  more  coal,  but  I  would  n't  have  it.  Fuel 
costs  money;  —  ugh!  it's  very  comfortable,  you 
see!7 

"  The  poor  wretch  was  actually  freezing,  at  this 
very  instant. 

" 'Nicholas,  how  do  you  suppose  we  rich  men 
will  contrive  to  employ  ourselves  in  heaven  ? ' 

"'Ha?'  exclaimed  Nicholas,  who  had  only  half 
apprehended  my  question,  'rich  men  in  heaven? 
I  hope  so.  Ugh ! ' 

"  'No  sharp  financiering  there,  I  suspect,  neighbor 
Nicholas; — no  trouble  with  tenants — no  terror  of 
landlords — no  dread  of  rent-days.  But,  what  will 
the  business  faculty  do  with  itself  there,  I  wonder.' 

"The  old  man  darted  at  me  a  half-angry,  half 
frightened  look. 

"'Don't  perplex  me,  Trap,'  said  he,  'I'm  too 
much  perplexed  already ;  those  cursed  tenants  of 
mine !  — ' 

"Then,  as  if  suddenly  paralyzed  by  a  great 
thought,  he  lapsed  into  silence.  His  countenance 
worked  painfully,  as  though  his  mind  were  labor 
ing  to  detach  itself  from  some  unwelcome  idea. 

"'Drat  it,'  exclaimed   Nicholas,   as   his  brittle 


THE   TANGLETOWN    LETTERS.  297 

patience  snapped,  '  L 'in  going  to  see  about  that,  by 
and  by;  one  must  'lend  lo  business,  ye  know,  just 
now  —  one;  must  be  careful,  and  tin  ill},  while  ho 
stays  in  I  lie  world,  must 'nt  he  now?' 

"  Thus  he  drivelled,  in  the  idiocy  of  utter  world- 
liru'ss  —  in  the  atheism  of  avarice.  He  had  business 
that  must  be  seen  to — he  must  straighten  tli  in  us 
out !  By  and  by  he  would  consider  something  clset — 
that  hung,  vague  and  spectral,  on  the  outermost 
verge  of  his  beggarly  consciousness. 

"That  night  he  died — passing  hence  to  a  scene 
where,  let  us  trust,  all  perplexities  are  cleared  up, 
and  all  the  murky  nebula?  of  sell-interest  forever 
dissipated. 

"Early  next  morning  I  went  to  the  poor  old 
miser's  chamber.  lie  had  died  like  an  outcast, 
liis  riches  had  beggared  him  of  every  comfort,  to 
the  last.  There  he  lay,  stark,  and  grim,  and  piti 
ful,  embracing  his  idol  —  a  bag  of  paltry  gold. 

"It  was  the  only  companion  the  corpse  retained; 
for  the  housekeeper — profiting  by  the  mercenary 
example  of  her  master — had  loaded  herself  with 
plunder,  and  had  fled  from  the  house,  even  before 
death  had  gained  entire  possession  of  the  fortress. 

"And  so  old  Nicholas  iJrick  left  the  world,  witli- 


298  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

out  a  human  heart  to  mourn  him,  or  a  tongue 
to  say,  'God  rest  his  soul!'  Some  of  his  ten 
ants  came  and  gazed  into  his  coffin;  but  tears 
dimmed  no  eye,  and  affection  warmed  no  face, 
when  the  cold  earth  received  its  trust.  Oh,  to 
live  and  die  thus  is  more  tragical  than  any  catas 
trophe  painted  in  blood! " 


By  this  time  it  was  quite  late,  and  the  conversa 
tion  dwindled  to  monosyllables ;  but  there  was  one 
person  more,  in  whose  fate  I  knew  that  all  our 
readers  must  feel  an  interest.  While  I  was  delib 
erating  how  to  introduce  her  name,  Mr.  Trap 
anticipated  me  and  said : 

"You  are  thinking  of  Amelia?  I  would  to  God 
that  I  might  gratify  your  sympathies  by  giving  a 
cheerful  report  of  her  prospects.  But  I  shall  only 
pain  you  with  what  I  have  to  tell.  Only  last  week 
I  visited  my  hapless  friend.  In  Belshazzar's  mag 
nificent  prison,  I  found  her.  Pale,  wasted,  passive, 
hopeless,  she  lay,  dying  —  amid  the  cruel  wealth 
and  mocking  splendor  that  bought  her  from  youth 
and  love,  and  happiness.  Yes,  there  she  wastes 


THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS.  299 

under  the  leaden  hours — in  the  full  maturity  of 
her  existence,  in  the  morning  glory  of  her  beauty. 
Betrayed  out  of  all  that  makes  life  precious,  she 
pines  for  Death,  as  the  bondman  for  the  night  that 
ends  his  task.  Her  inner  spirit  blighted  and  fet 
tered,  the  outward  universe  is  disenchanted  of  every 
charm.  No  majesty  of  Nature  —  no  blossoming  of 
flowers — no  aerial  melodies  that  fill  the  summer 
twilight  —  no  echo  of  historic  heroism,  or  contact 
with  living  millions,  or  lingering  strains  from  the 
invisible  harp  of  youth — shall  ever  minister  to 
her  more. 

"When  I  left  her,  she  drew  me  to  her  pillow 
and  kissed  me,  as  she  said  —  'Were  I  to  live  again 
on  this  earth,  I  would  fly  all  these  trappings  as 
from  wicked  enchantments,  and,  in  the  guiltless 
liberty  that  blesses  the  poor,  seek  only  the  Wisdom 
of  my  Father  and  the  love  of  his  creatures.  I  feel 
that  life  has  a  meaning  which  I  have  never  found. 
Apparitions  of  some  unspeakable  glory  dart  across 
my  bewildered  path.  In  the  ashes  of  my  heart, 
where  Hope  faded  into  blackness  long  ago,  some 
mysterious  and  prophetic  tapers  gleam  anew,  as  if 
to  show  me  the  unknown  treasure  which  my  soul 
covets ! ' " 


300  THE   TANGLETOWN   LETTERS. 

Mr.  Trap's  voice  subsided  into  a  whisper,  as  he 
rehearsed  these  solemn  words.  He  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  breast ;  and  his  were  not  the  only  tears 
that  consecrated  the  memory  of  Amelia. 


NEW  AND  POPULAR  BOOKS, 

PUBLISHED  AXD  IX  PRESS  BY 

WANZER,  M°KIM  &  CO 


THE   SACRED  PLAINS. 

BY  J.  II.  HEADLEY. 

One  elegant  12mo  volume,  cloth.  Illustrated  with  seven  beautiful 
tinted  designs  of  the  memorable  Plains  of  the  Scriptures.  Price  $1.25. 

This  work  is  -written  in  a  style  which  can  not  fail  to  commend  it  to  the  favor 
of  the  reading  public.  Strictly  adhering  to  Sacred  History  and  geographical  po 
sitions  for  facts,  the  author  ha3  woven  in  an  amount  of  interesting  matter  and 
entertaining  details  concerning  the  various  scenes,  which  can  not  fail  to  engage 
the  earnest  attention  of  every  class  of  readers. 

Among  the  hundreds  of  complimentary  notices  with  which  the  book  has  been 
received  by  the  press  in  different  sections  of  the  country,  we  select  the  following 
from  the  best  critics. 

From  the  New  York  Evening  Post. 

The  writer  of  this  volume  has  found  in  the  Bible  twelve  Plains,  commencing 
with  that  of  Shinar,  which  he  makes  the  text  of  as  many  chapters  which  will  be 
read  not  without  edification  by  those  who  most  enjoyed  the  "  Sacred  Mountains." 

From  the  Saturday  Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 

Those  who,  noticing  the  title,  think  this  solely  such  a  work  as  will  please  the 
religious  community,  are  vastly  mistaken.  The  writer  has  a  powerful  use  of 
language,  and  though  he  enters  ut  on  his  task  with  the  true  devotional  spirit, 
he  invests  his  theme  with  an  interest  sure  to  fascinate  the  general  reader.  Such 
redding  is  well  calculated  to  lead  the  mind  to  the  fountain  source  whence  the 
author  derives  his  inspiration,  arid  in  that  way  subserves  the  causes  of  religion 

From  The  Courier,  Lawrence,  Mass. 

This  beautiful  work  will  meet  a  cordial  reception  from  all  persons  of  correct 
taste  in  the  reading  community.  It  is  beautifully  embellished. 


2  HEADLEY'S  SACRED  PLAINS. 

From  the  Boston  Journal 

This  volume  is  in  continuation  of  the  plan  of  the  Rev.  J.  T.  Headley,  whose 
"  Sacred  Mountains  "  have  been  very  popular.  It  is  by  another  hand,  and  one 
claiming  no  relationship  save  that  of  name.  The  style  is  very  different,  and  per- 
haps  better  adapted  to  the  subject.  It  is  simple  and  unpretending,  but  plain  and 
forcible.  The  author  has  fulfilled  his  task  in  a  very  interesting  manner,  and  the 
publishers  have  made  the  outside  of  the  book  as  attractive  to  the  eye  as  the  inside 
is  to  the  mind. 

From  the  Journal,  Bangor. 

The  events  which  transpired  in  these  localities  were  among  the  most  stirring 
and  interesting  recorded  in  the  Bible.  The  book  is  well  written,  and  will  prove 
acceptable  to  the  Christian  reader. 

From  the  Boston  Times. 

This  work  will  probably  have  thousands  of  purchasers,  and  tens  of  thousands 
of  readers.  It  relates  to  some  of  the  noblest  portions  of  the  world,  which  are 
eacred  alike  to  the  man  of  taste  and  the  man  of  piety. 

From  the  Livingston  Republican. 

The  author  has  faithfully  executed  his  design,  and  presented  to  the  public  a 
book  replete  with  interest  and  instruction. 

From  the  Northern  Farmer,  Woodstock,  Vt. 

The  author  has  created  a  series  of  beautiful  sketches,  that  will  be  read  with 
deep  interest  by  all  who  are  so  fortunate  as  to  possess  the  book. 

From  the  Home  Journal. 

So  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  judge,  the  work  may  prove  acceptable  to  the 
admirers  of  the  first  winner  of  the  honors  of  the  name,  and  form  a  worthy  addi 
tion  to  these  delineations  of  Scripture. 

From  the  Medina  Tribune. 

To  the  readers  of  the  Scriptures,  and  those  taking  an  interest  in  the  scenes 
and  events  of  the  Holy  Land,  the  work  cannot  fail  to  be  deeply  interesting.  It 
is  written  in  a  style  of  poetic  prose  suited  to  the  subject,  and  makes  some  glow 
ing  pictures  of  the  "  Sacred  Plains,"  spreading  them  out  in  all  their  oriental 
loveliness,  and  investing  them  with  a  charm  and  interest  that  belong  only  to 
Scripture  scenes.  Altogether,  the  work  is  a  valuable  accession  to  the  literature 
of  our  country. 


NOTICES   OF   THE   PRESS.  3 

From  the  Rochester  Union. 

The  writer  has  endeavored  to  familiarize  his  readers  with  those  remarkable 
events  noticed  in  the  Scriptures,  which  make  sacred  the  plains  where  they  occur 
red.  He  has  clothed  his  ideas  with  lofty  and  beautiful  language,  and  treated  the 
subject  in  a  manner  becoming  its  importance. 

The  publishers  have  executed  their  task  well.  The  book  is  illustrated  with  sev 
eral  fine  engravings,  and  in  all  respects  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  typography. 
Its  style,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  its  contents,  makes  this- volume  peculiarly  appro 
priate  as  a  holiday  gift 

From  the  New  York  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

This  volume,  though  not  by  the  same  author  as  that  of  "The  Sacred  Mountains," 
is  written  on  the  same  plan,  in  the  same  spirit,  and  is,  we  suppose,  designed  to  be 
a  companion  to  it.  It  treats  successively  of  the  twelve  principal  plains  of  the 
Holy  land  invested  with  Scriptural  associations— describes  their  geographical  fea 
tures,  and  portrays  the  most  striking  events  of  which  they  have  been  the  scene, 
with  appropriate  reflections.  The  author,  like  his  predecessor,  is  very  successful 
in  reviving  scenes  with  lifelike  effect,  and  his  book  will  very  justly  find  extensive 

favor. 

From  the  Louisville  Journal. 

It  is  full  of  deep  interest,  and,  like  all  the  works  of  its  distinguished  author, 
written  in  a  most  glowing  and  beautiful  style.  In  this  kind  of  writing,  Mr.  Head 
ley  is  without  a  living  rival. 

From  the  Lockport  Courier. 

A  more  beautiful  and  interesting  work  has  not  been  issued 'from  the  press  in  a 
long  time.  The  author  has  written  with  a  pen  inspired,  and  this  fragrant  offer 
ing — this  rosy  bud  of  Sacred  History — will  never  cease  to  throw  a  sanctify  ing*  in 
fluence  around  every  heart.  We  commend  it  to  all. 

From  the  New  Bedford  Mercury. 

Whatever  can  increase  an  interest  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  by  giving  more 
distinct  impressions  of  localities  or  events,  produce  a  more  forcible  moral  influence, 
cannot  be  too  highly  commended.  The  large  type  and  clear  paper  make  it  valuable 
to  a  large  class  of  readers,  and  attractive  to  the  aged.  We  think  every  one  can 
think  of  some  half-dozen  friends  for  whom  it  would  be  particularly  appropriate. 

From  the  Dedham  Gazette. 
We  prefer  the  style  of  the  present  work  to  that  of  its  more  pretentious  prede- 


4  HEADLEY'S  SACKED  PLAINS. 

From  the  Portland  (lie.)  Transcript. 

Calculated  to  give  the  young  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  Biblical  localities  and 
events 

From  the  New  York  Dispatch. 

This  work  will  be  welcomed  cordially  by  the  numerous  admirers  of  J.  T.  Head- 
ley's  "Sacred  Mountains,"  to  which  it  is,  in  fact,  a  natural  sequence.  We  have 
read  the  proof  sheets  of  the  work  with  very  great  pleasure,  and  feel  satisfied  that 
it  will  be  popular  with  that  numerous  class  of  readers  who  prefer  books  of  travel 
or  of  an  instructive  character,  to  mere  trifling  works  of  fiction. 

Judicious  readers  of  every  class  will  derive  both  pleasure  and  profit  from  its 

perusal. 

From  the  Genesee  Evangelist 

The  admirers  of  descriptive  writing  will  find  this  a  pleasant  book. 

From  the  Rochester  Democrat. 

The  author  has  done  his  part  exceedingly  well,  and  furnished  a  book  of  real 
value  to  the  readers  of  the  Bible. 

From  the  American  Citizen,  Ithaca,  N.  Y. 
To  the  lovers  of  true  literature  we  recommend  this  new  work. 

From  the  Buffalo  Republic. 

The  writer  has  really  made  a  valuable  addition  to  the  literature  of  our  country, 
and  in  a  graceful  and  easy  style,  absorbs  the  interest  of  the  reader  unto  the  end 
of  the  volume. 

From  the  County  Journal,  Roxbury,  Mass. 

It  will  be  an  interesting  volume  to  many  readers,  and  will  give  a  new  interest  to 
eome  of  the  events  which  are  described  in  Scripture. 

From  the  Massapoag  Journal,  Canton,  Mass. 

This  beautiful  work  is  intended  as  a  companion  to  the  "Sacred  Mountains"  by 
Rev.  J.  T.  Headley.  It  will  be  found  a  valuable  acquisition  to  Sabbath  School 
Libraries,  and  by  all  lovers  of  Biblical  literature. 

Extract  from  a  letter  written  by  Rev.  G.  W.  HKACOCK,  of  Buffalo. 
No  reader  can  fail  under  the  guidance  of  our  author,  to  make  an  interesting 
acquaintance  with  these  "sacred  places,"  each  of  which  hath  witnessed  some  mir 
acle  of  God— some  footsteps  of  the  Eternal.  Pitch  your  tent,  then,  reader,  for  a 
few  successive  nights,  with  so  kindly  a  guide  on  these  plains,  and  realize  again  tho 
vision  of  glory  or  of  dread  which  once  overshadowed  them. 


NOTICES   OF   THE    PRESS.  5 

From  the  Detroit  Daily  Advertiser. 

There  is  sufficient  merit  in  the  work  to  entitle  it  to  a  place  beside  the  "  Sacred 
Mountains,"  and  make  it  a  favorite  with  the  lover  of  themes  associated  so  closely 
with  Biblical  History.  It  is  very  handsomely  issued  with  engravings  in  tint,  and 
confers  additional  credit  upon  the  young  and  enterprising  firm  whose  name  em 
bellishes  the  title-page. 

Extracts  from  a  letter  written  by  Rev.  JAMES  A.  MAITLAND,  of  Brooklyn. 
The  author  has  shown  judgment  as  well  as  skill.  »  *  *  The  diction  and  style  of 
the  author  are  singularly  pure  and  elegant.  *  *  *  In  conclusion  let  me  say,  that 
I  think  you  have  got  an  excellent  book— just  the  thing  that  was  wanted  to  fill  up 
a  void  in  the  list  of  books  for  the  Holidays, 

Worthy  a  place  in  every  well-selected  library.—  Wisconsin  Union. 

An  excellent  book,  and  one  that  deserves  an  extensive  circulation. — Genesee 
Democrat. 

The  style  is  brilliant,  and  we  think  the  book  will  be  read  with  much  interest.— 
Boston  Olive  Branch. 

The  perusal  warrants  us  in  saying  that  it  is  superior  to  the  "Sacred  Mountains." 
—Angelica  Reporter. 

Very  interesting  and  instructive. — Ann  Arbor  Journal. 

We  heartily  commend  it  to  our  readers. — Weekly  Guide,  Port  Hope. 

We  have  read  it  with  unmingled  pleasure  and  profit. — American  Citizen. 

The  book  is  written  in  an  able  and  spirited  manner,  and  is  well  worth  the  time 
spent  in  reading  it. —  Westfteld  Republic. 

Written  in  a  very  lucid  and  eloquent  style.— Philadelphia  Courier 

The  author  has  prepared  a  very  readable  and  truly  instructive  work. —  Western 
Literary  Messenger. 

Extract  of  a  letter  from  Rev.  E.  W.  REYNOLDS. 

In  my  humble  judgment,  it  sustains  a  favorable  comparison  with  its  popular 
predecessor,  "  The  Sacred  Mountains  ; "  and  I  think  all  the  admirers  of  that  work 
will  consider  it  a  privilege  to  procure  this. 

From  Weekly  Expositor,  Brantford,  C.  W. 
A  work  of  such  merit  should  bo  found  on  every  gentleman's  table. 


A  NEW  WORK  ON  COTTAGE  ARCHITECTURE. 


THE  ECONOMIC  COTTAGE  BUILDER: 

OR  COTTAGES  FOR  MEN  OF  SMALL  MEAXS 

ADAPTED  TO  EVERY  LOCALITY,  WITH  INSTRUCTIONS  FOR  CHOOSING  THE  MOST 
ECONOMICAL  MATERIALS  AFFORDED  BY  THE  NEIGHBORHOOD  ;  TO  WHICH  ARK 
ADDED  MANY  VALUABLE  HINTS  AND  USEFUL  OBSERVATIONS. 

Illustrated  with  tinted  Designs  on  stone.     By  Charles  P.  Dwyer,  Architect 
and  Civil  Engineer. 

In  one  Octavo  Volume,  cloth,  gilt,  illustrated.    Price  $1.25. 
Mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  the  retail  price. 

This  work  is  intended  to  meet  the  wants  of  a  class  of  people  who  may  desire 
to  build  and  own  houses  for  their  own  residences,  which  shall  not  consume  all 
their  means  and  leave  them  with  a  structure  only  partly  finished.  The  instructions 
are  all  practical,  and  embrace  statistics  for  building  every  grade  of  Cottage,  from 
the  house  composed  of  logs  to  the  ornamental  and  finished  residence.  A  large 
number  of  valuable  receipts,  never  before  made  public,  are  added,  and  those  who 
desire  to  build  within  their  means  will  find  them  invaluable.  The  illustrations, 
twenty-four  in  number,  and  the  ground  plans  are  beautifully  done,  and  the  work 
is  issued  in  a  style  commensurate  with  its  merits. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 

The  Boston  Evening  Transcript  says  : 

We  have  examined  this  work  with  care,  and  have  read  a  number  of  the  chapters 
containing  much  valuable  matter  written  in  a  plain  but  concise  style.  We  cordially 
commend  the  book  to  the  attention  of  those  of  small  means,  for  whose  benefit  it 
was  prepared. 

The  Ingersoll  (C.  W.)  Gazette  says  : 

Those  of  our  readers  who  contemplate  building,  should  first  read  this  book,  as 
the  suggestions  it  contains  as  Jo  the  proper  material  to  be  used,  and  the  manner 
of  building,  cannot  be  too  highly  rated. 


NOTICES   OE   THE   PRESS.  7 

The  Boston  Atlas  says : 

It  is  adapted  to  every  locality,  contains  indispensable  instructions,  invaluable 
observations,  and  numerous  illustrations.  To  the  builder  this  publication  must 
be  a  work  of  no  ordinary  value. 

The  New  York  Evening  Mirror  says : 

We  have  examined  this  volume  with  some  care  and  with  great  pleasure,  for  we 
believe  it  is  destined  to  do  good — it  will  do  vast  good,  if  it  can  be  put  into  the 
hands  of  those  who  build,  providing  they  have  a  particle  of  good  sense  or  good 
taste. 

If  the  suggestions  of  this  volume  could  prevail,  millions  of  dollars  would  be 
saved  annually  in  building,  and  the  lace  of  the  country  would  soon  take  on  a 
smile  of  architecture. 

The  Louisville  Journal  says : 

It  is  particularly  adapted  to  such  localities  as  exist  here,  and  in  all  directions 
around  us.  It  is  exactly  what  our  market  has  for  a  long  time  required. 

The  New  York  Dispatch  says  : 

The  engravings  are  very  fine.  We  honestly  recommend  the  book  to  those  for 
whose  use  the  author  has  written  it. 

The  Philadelphia  Saturday  Courier  says  : 

During  the  present  wide-spread  epidemic  for  rural  residences  which  pervades  all 
classes  of  our  city  population,  even  to  the  smallest  mechanic,  no  more  seasonable 
o  c  useful  work  could  have  been  presented  for  popular  use.  Every  Homestead  and 
Building  Association  should  be  supplied  with  this  and  similar  works. 

The  People's  Museum  says  : 

The  book  is  intended  for  those  whose  means  will  not  allow  them  to  procure  pro 
fessional  assistance,  and  yet  whose  tastes  are  worthy  of  being  gratified,  even  in  an 
humble  manner — so  that,  by  pointing  out  how  simple  a  thing  is  true  beauty,  the 
man  of  humble  means  may,  in  his  tiny  cottage  homestead,  enjoy  the  satisfaction 
of  having  secured  it,  when  his  aristocratic  neighbor,  after  a  profuse  expenditure, 
etill  sighs  for  it  in  vain. 

The  Michigan  Argus  says  : 

Any  man,  designing  to  build  him  a  home,  can  get  mdre  than  the  worth  of  hie 
money  by  purchasing  this  volume. 


8  THE   ECONOMIC    COTTAGE   BUILDER. 

The  Sunday  Dispatch  says  : 

The  mission  of  this  book  is  to  teach  men  of  small  means  how  easily  they  may 
fashion  for  themselves  out  of  the  roughest  materials  tenements  which  will  please 
the  eye  of  every  person  of  taste.  The  publicatiou  is  a  useful  one. 

The  Wisconsin  Mirror  says  : 
Any  person  who  intends  ever  to  build  will  do  well  to  buy  it. 

The  Geneseo  Republic  says  : 

A  copy  of  this  work  has  been  on  our  table  for  some  weeks,  and  after  a  close 
perusal  of  its  contents,  we  can  most  heartily  commend  it  to  our  readers. 

The  Missouri  Democrat  says  : 

This  is  an  interesting  scientiBc  treatise  on  Cottage  Architecture,  which  cannot 
but  be  of  invaluable  use  to  country  and  suburban  residents.  We  commend  it  to 
general  attention. 

The  Genesee  Valley  Gazette  sayg  : 

We  apprehend  that  this  treatise,  on  subjects  in  which  all  are  interested,  will  be 
regarded  by  its  purchasers  as  invaluable. 

The  Livingston  Union  says  : 
This  book  will  be  a  valuable  aid  to  those  engaged  in  house  building. 

I  The  Sandusky  Mirror  says  : 

This  is  just  the  book  needed,  and  will  commend  itself  to  those  for  whose  benefit 
it  is  designed. 

The  St.  Catharines  (C.  W.)  Post  says : 

This  is  a  work  which  will  certainly  command  a  ready  sale,  and  it  is  just  the 
book  that  our  citizens,  who  contemplate  bnilding  cottages  and  dwelling-houses, 
should  at  once  procure. 

Tho  Brantford  (C.  W.)  Expositor  says : 

Economy  in  the  erection  of  buildings  is  a  matter  of  much  importance  with  the 
great  body  of  the  people.  There  is  no  work  before  the  public  as  well  adapted  as 
this  one  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  great  majority  of  the  people. 

The  Cobbleskill  Journal  says : 

This  is  a  book  which  will  be  invaluable  to  all  wishing  to  possess  a  house  of  their 
own  on  a  cheap  and  durable  plan. 


NOTICES    OF   THE   PEESS.  9 

The  Mansfield  Express  says  : 

It  is  a  work  the  like  of  which  has  long  been  needed  by  the  laboring  classes.  A 
great  trouble  with  nearly  all  works  on  domestic  Architecture  is,  that  they  treat 
only  of  costly  villas  and  splendid  mansions  ;  but  the  one  before  us  comes  down  to 
the  wants  and  means  of  laboring  men,  and  deserves  perusal  by  all. 

The  American  Citizen  says: 

No  one  who  is  intending  to  build  should  fail  to  buy  and  read  it.  It  will  pay  the 
cost  many  times  over. 

The  Rochester  Union  says : 

This  is  not  only  a  beautiful  book,  but  is  a  useful  one,  containing  information  of 
the  utmost  practical  importance,  nowhere  else  to  be  found  in  print.  The  book 
should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  man  who  thinks  of  erecting  a  cheap  dwelling,  or 
who  possesses  the  art  of  constructing  a  handsome  cottage. 


HOME      COOKERY 

A  COLLECTION  OF 


BY 

MRS.      J.      C    II   A   T3    W   I    C    K  . 

One  of  the  best  and  most  economical  works  on  this  important  branch  of  a 
lady's  education  ever  issued. 


PAYSON  &  DTJNTON'S  PENMANSHIP. 

A  most  complete  system  of  instruction,  by  practical  teachers,  with  Copies  at 
the  head  of  every  page,  in  style  exactly  resembling  those  set  by  the  authors  with 
a  pen. 

The  books  belonging  to  this  series  are  intended  to  be  a  compromise  between  the 
old-'ushioned  round  hand  and  the  more  modern  angular  and  open  style  of  writing. 

It  is  believed  that  the  merits  of  this  system,  its  order  and  arrangement,  the  sim 
plicity  of  its  plan,  the  interapersion  of  figures  and  dates,  and  the  style  of  the 
copies,  will  commend  the  series  at  once  to  the  approval  of  experienced  teachers. 

Specimen  numbers  furnished  gratis. 


10  NOTICES   OF   THE    PRESS. 


THE  CONTRACTOR'S  BOOK 

Of  working  Drawings  of  Tools  and  Machines  used  in  constructing  Canals,  Rail 
roads,  and  other  works  ;  with  Bills  of  Timber  and  Iron.  Also,  Tables  and  Data 
for  calculating  the  cost  of  earth  and  other  kinds  of  work.  Beautifully  illustrated 
with  tinted  Engravings.  By  GEORGE  COLE,  Civil  Engineer.  Folio,  $8.00. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTICES  OF  THE  WORK. 

Albany,  Dec.  11,  1854. 

Mr.  GEORGB  COLE,  Buifalo— My  dear  sir :  I  have  received  and  carefully  examined 
a  copy  of  "The  Contractor's  Book  of  Working  Drawings  of  Tools  and  Machines," 
and  regard  it  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  practical  books  which  has  been  recently 
published.  Very  truly  yours, 

WM.  J.  McALPIXE. 

Lyons,  Dec.  80, 185-4. 

Mr.  GEORGE  COLE — Dear  sir :  I  consider  your  book  one  of  great  usefulness  to  all 
persons  engaged  in  the  construction  of  Public  Works  and  other  improvements  to 
which  the  machinery  is  adapted.  I  have  traveled  hundreds  of  miles,  and  spent 
hundreds  of  dollars,  to  procure  very  imperfect  plans  of  some  of  the  most  simple 
machinery  represented  in  your  drawings,  and  for  information  that  maybe  got 
from  your  book  in  five  minutes. 

A  Contractor  frequently  finds  it  necessary  to  use  machinery  on  works  distant 
from  machine  shops,  and  without  the  assistance  of  competent  mechanics,  making 
it  the  cause  of  delay,  vexation  and  expense,  when,  with  the  use  of  your  book,  and 
ordinary  mechanical  skill,  the  article  required  may  be  produced  without  delay  or 
difficulty. 

Your  book  has  long  been  needed,  and  I  hope  it  will  receive  (as  it  deserves)  the 
patronage  of  Contractors  and  Mechanics.  Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

ZEBULON  MOORE. 

Reading,  Pa.,  Jan.  2, 1855. 

Mr.  GEORGB  COLE — My  dear  sir  :  I  beg  to  acknowledge  your  kind  politeness  in 
Bending  me  a  copy  of  "  The  Contractor's  Book." 

The  execution,  both  in  type  aud  drawings,  is  as  beautiful  as  its  information  is 
valuable  ;  and  I  consider  it  the  most  practically  useful  book,  on  the  subject  em. 
braced,  I  have  ever  mot.  Very  truly  yours, 

G.  A.  NICOLLS, 
Eng'r  and  Sup't  Philad'a  and  Reading  R.  R. 


NOTICES    OF   THE    PRESS.  3.1 

From  the  Albany  Argus. 

THE  CONTRACTOR'S  BOOK.  By  GKO.  COLE,  Civil  Engineer.—*  *  *  The  design 
of  the  book  is  entirely  unique.  The  author,  who  has  been  long  known  in  this  state 
as  one  of  our  most  indefatigable  and  practical  constructing  engineers  and  a  care 
ful,  observing  man,  hag  availed  himself  of  the  ample  opportunity  which  his  pro 
fession  and  employment  have  afforded,  to  determine  the  cost  of  executing  all  kinds 
of  public  works,  and  the  comparative  economy  of  the  use  of  all  the  different  kinds 
of  labor-saving  machines  and  tools,  used  by  contractors  and  railroad  companies 
where  he  has  been  engaged,  or  where  he  has  had  opportunities  for  close  and  care- 
ful  observation. 

From  the  Hamilton  (C.  W.;  Spectator. 

THE  CONTRACTOR'S  BOOK.  '  By  GEORGE  COLE,  Civil  Engineer. — *  *  *  The 
work  cannot  fail  to  prove  useful  to  those  for  whom  it  was  intended.  It  is  got  up 
in  the  very  best  style  of  the  Lithographic  art,  and  contains  all  that  is  desirable  to 
instruct  contractors  and  others  engaged  in  the  construction  of  Public  Works. 

From  the  Albany  Evening  Journal. 

We  can  readily  see  that  it  would  be  invaluable  to  those  for  whom  it  is  designed, 
as  it  furnishes  them  with  the  means  of  building  on  their  own  works  machines  of 
the  most  approved  form,  as  attested  by  the  best  experience,  and  thus  will  often 
save  every  contractor  who  has  a  copy  of  this  work  more  than  ten  times  the  cost 
of  the  book,  besides  the  assurance  that  he  will  have  the  tool  or  machine  which 
will  accomplish  his  work  in  the  most  economical  manner. 

Mr.  Cole  is  an  Engineer  of  high  standing  in  this  state,  and  especially  as  a  prac 
tical  constructing  Engineer. 

From  the  American  Railway  Times,  Boston,  Mass, 

THE  CONTRACTOR'S  BOOK.  Compiled  by  GEORGB  COLE,  Civil  Engineer.— The 
compiler  of  this  very  beautiful  as  well  as  very  valuable  work,  has  sent  us  a  copy 
for  which  he  has  our  thanks.  The  work  is  got  up  in  splendid  style  ;  the  illustra 
tions  are  in  the  very  highest  style  of  lithography,  some  of  them  finely  colored, 
and  the  descriptive  portions  of  the  work  are  clear,  plain  and  comprehensive. 

We  trust  that  the  work  wil.l  be  well  patronized,  because  it  will  not  only  prove 
very  useful  to  those  for  whom  it  is  designed,  but  it  is  very  beautiful  in  itself. 

New  York,  February  5, 1855. 

GEORGK  COLE,  Esq.,  Buffalo — Dear  sir:  I  inclose  you  my  check  for  ten  dollars, 
in  payment  for  your  very  useful  and  valuable  work.  I  trust  your  sales  have  already 
remunerated  you  for  the  outlay  ;  if  not,  they  must  soon  do  so,  when  its  value  be 
comes  known  to  the  profession.  Truly  yours, 

C.  B.  STUART. 


12  THE  CONTRACTOR'S  BOOK. 

Office  Cobourg  and  Peterboro  Railway. 
Cobourg,  C.  W.,  Jan.  27, 1S55. 

GEORGE  COLE,  Esq.,  Civil  Engineer— Dear  sir  :  *  *  *  The  book  Is  most  valu 
able  for  its  contents,  and  really  beautiful  in  its  execution.  Many  cases  have  coma 
under  my  own  observation  in  which  the  possession  of  a  book  of  this  kind  by  the 
Contractors,  would  have  saved  them  much  trouble  and  large  sums  of  money  in  the 
prosecution  of  their  work. 

The  Plans  and  Drawings  are  worthy  of  the  "  Mechanical  Engineer  and  Draughts 
man,"  and  the  care  and  accuracy  displayed  in  the  detailed  arrangement  of  the 
bills  of  Material  and  memoranda,  is  highly  creditable  to  all  concerned. 

The  book  is  by  far  the  best  arranged  and  most  valuable  one  of  the  kind  I  have 
ever  seen,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  exceedingly  useful  both  to  Contractors  and 

Engineers.  Truly  yours, 

L.  SPAULDIXG. 

Chief  Engineer  C.  &  P.  P.aihvay. 


IN    PRESS: 

A  NEW  WORK  BY  PROFESSOR  GRIMES. 

The  Mysteries  of  Human  Nature  Explained, 

This  work  will  treat  particularly  on  the  Nervous  System  :  its  relation  to  the 
brain,  etc. :  and  will  contain  the  best  history  and  analysis  of  the  popular  spiritual 
belief  ever  written  ;  showing  its  origin,  effects  on  the  nervous  system,  and  giving 
clear  and  distinct  instructions  how  to  make  indisputable  "  mediums." 

Those  who  have  read  the  proof-sheets  declare  that  this  book  is  destined  to 
create  a  greater  sensation  in  reference  to  this  subject  than  any  ever  before 
published. 

The  author's  work  on  Mesmerism,  published  in  Buffalo  eighteen  years  ago, 
created,  at  that  time,  an  unusual  interest,  and  was  received  with  great  favor. 

That  work  established  his  reputation  as  an  able,  vigorous,  and  popular  writer 
upon  such  topics,  and  called  forth  very  flattering  commendations  from  eminent 
tliterary  and  scientific  gentlemen  both  in  America  and  in  Europe. 


THE 


HONTGOMERYS. 


A  TALE  DRAWN  FROM  REAL  LIFE. 


IN  PRESS,  AND  TO  BE  PUBLISHED  NOVEMBER  20,  18M. 


B  UFFALO: 

WANZER,  M.9KIM   &  00. 
1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 

WANZER,  MCKIM  &  co., 

[n  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Northern  District 
of  New  York. 


CHAS.  E.  FELTON, 
STEREOTYPES,    BUFFALO,  N.  T. 


THE  MONTGOMERYS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Hark !    The  warning  tone 
Deepens —  its  word  is  Death! 


—  HEMANS. 


THE  morning  of  the  24th  of  December,  183-,  was,  in 
Philadelphia,  ushered  in  by  wind,  sleet,  and  gloom.  All 
the  night  long  had  the  tempest  raged,  unmindful  of  the 
houseless  wanderer  exposed  to  its  rude  blast,  or  of  the 
weary  watcher  who  shuddered  at  the  sound  of  its  dismal 
yell ;  but,  as  a  broken  heart,  maddened  at  its  own  anguish, 
it  howled  forth  its  woe,  careless  of  how  the  sound  might 
stir  the  listener's  heart. 

In  the  beautiful  home  of  Mr.  Elwood  Montgomery,  ev 
ery  thing  was  in  keeping  with  this  gloomy  morn,  which 
followed  so  wild  a  night.  There,  through  the  wearisome, 
dark  hours,  had  lain  the  wife  and  mother,  writhing  in  that 
physical  agony  which,  but  for  the  hope  —  the  mother's 
hope  —  would  be  past  human  endurance. 

And  oh !  the  sufferings  of  those  who  loved  her  as  such ! 
(as  such  a  woman  must  be  loved,)  who  can  imagine  them? 
That  proud,  doting  husband — who  had  so  often  smiled  when 
he  looked  upon  his  strong  arm,  because  it  could  shield  her, 
his  best  beloved,  from  life's  rough  storms  —  now  trembled 


4  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

but  to  gaze  on  that  convulsed  face  and  form.  The  half- 
suppressed  groan  which  would  sometimes  escape  those 
deathlike  lips  went,  as  a  dagger,  to  the  heart  of  those  who 
heard  it ;  for  they  knew  that  naught  but  the  keenest  an 
guish  could  so  far  overcome  her  self-control.  Even  the 
kind,  hopeful  Dr.  Graham  trembled  for  the  issue,  as  he 
saw  that  fragile  form  quivering  in  its  helplessness,  as  an 
aspen  leaf. 

In  a  room  far  away  from  the  sick-chamber  was  Mary, 
the  only  daughter  and  youngest  child  of  the  household. 
Through  these  tedious  hours  of  anxious  suspense,  she  had 
kept  herself  within  her  own  room ;  for  she  had  found  her 
tearful  pleadings  with  her  father,  Dr.  Graham ,  and  even 
the  kind  old  Margaret  herself,  of  no  avail ;  for  they  would 
none  of  them  consent  to  having  the  young  girl  of  sixteen 
take  her  place  by  the  mother's  bedside  in  such  an  hour  as 
this.  So,  shut  within  her  own  room,  she  had  waited  —  at 
one  moment,  listening  to  the  hurried  tread  of  those  who 
passed  and  repassed  to  and  from  the  sick-chamber;  and 
the  next,  walking  hurriedly  to  and  fro,  her  face  almost  dis 
torted  with  anxiety,  and  her  cheek  blanched  to  Death's 
pallor. 

It  was  after  this  dreary  night  and  the  following  equally 
dreary  day,  that  the  poor  child,  worn  out  with  watching, 
exhausted  with  anxiety,  sank  overpowered  upon  a  low 
couch.  Twilight  was  gathering  around;  but  it  was  all 
one  to  Mary — day  or  night,  light  or  darkness — till  she 
could  be  again  permitted  to  stand  by  the  bedside  of  her 
beautiful,  loved  mother.  She  thought  not  of  its  being  the 
anniversary  of  that  eve  which  had  ever  brought  to  her  so 
much  joy.  There  was  no  brightening  of  her  child-face  at 
the  remembrance  of  the  many  beautiful  presents  which  had 
ever  made  more  joyous  each  return  of  the  Merry  Christmas 


THE   MONTGOMERYS.  5 

time !  Her  whole  soul  was  too  full  of  fear  for  any  other 
thought  to  have  place ;  and  each  moment  she  felt  the  little 
hope  which  lingered  there,  dwindling  lower  and  lower. 

Childhood  is  full  of  smiles  and  tears;  and  so  of  our 
whole  lives,  for  when  we  arrive  at  what  we  are  pleased  to 
call  maturer  years,  how  often  are  we  made  to  feel  that  we 
are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth.  But  who  does  not 
remember  when  the  first  dark  sorrow  came  hovering  around, 
each  moment  approaching  nearer  and  nearer- — at  first 
dimming  and  then  shutting  out  entirely  that  sunny  sky 
which  had  never  before  been  overcast  with  clouds  ?  And, 
oh!  if  that  sorrow  be  that  darkest,  deepest — if  the  angel 
Death  come,  and  with  his  cold  lips  press  the  brow  of  her 
who  gave  us  birth,  who  has  from  her  own  blood  nourished 
so  freely  our  baby  forms ;  upon  whose  bosom  our  heads 
have  been  pillowed  with  that  tenderness  which  is  unsur 
passed — then  is  it  indeed  a  bitter  first  sorrow! 

Although  Mary  Montgomery  was  so  young  —  scarcely 
more  than  a  child  in  years — yet  had  there,  for  weeks,  a 
fearful  apprehension  haunted  her  brain ;  for  she  knew  that 
the  trial  which  nature  was  now  making  upon  her  mother's 
strength  was  one  which  might  well  shake  a  strong  woman ; 
and,  as  the  time  had  approached  for  the  consummation  of 
their  hopes  or  fears,  she  had  felt  as  though  a  dark  cloud 
was  gathering  around  her ;  and  now,  as  it  was  ready  to 
burst  upon  her  head,  she  shrank  with  dread  from  meeting 
it — for  something  whispered  her,  it  would  leave  her  heart 
desolate ! 

Thus,  for  an  hour,  had  she  lain  half  stupefied  with  dread. 
The  twilight  had  deepened  into  that  black  darkness  without, 
which  is  so  true  a  type  of  the  night  of  sorrow  which  some 
times  comes  to  the  soul,  when,  for  a  time,  even  the  star  of 
hope  is  obscured ;  and  within,  her  room  was  rendered  still 


6  THE    MONTGOMEEYS. 

more  sombre  by  the  occasional  flashes  which  the  smoul 
dering  bitumen  sent  dancing,  in  phantom  forms,  upon  the 
walls.  Just  then,  the  door  was  softly  opened,  and  the 
lamp  from  the  hall  sent  in  a  line  of  clear  light,  revealing 
in  the  intruder  the  most  elegant  form  of  a  young  girl,  who 
for  a  moment  hesitated,  that  her  eyes  might  become 
accustomed  to  the  darkness,  and  then,  with  an  elastic  tread 
which  the  velvety  carpet  answered  not  with  a  sound,  she 
hastened  across  the  room  to  the  couch  upon  which  the  out 
lines  of  Mary's  form  were  visible.  The  poor  girl  started 
not,  until  a  hand  was  laid  upon  her  forehead  most  caress 
ingly  ;  then  a  shiver  ran  through  her  slight  frame,  for  she 
needed  not  to  look  up  to  know  whose  was  that  gentle 
touch  upon  her  brow ; — and,  oh  !  the  dread  of  speaking  to 
one  she  loved  in  this  hour  of  doubt  and  fear ! 

Helen  Ashland  understood  all  this :  she  well  knew  that 
the  gay,  willful  spirit  of  her  cousin  could  not  yield  to  sor 
row,  as  could  one  of  a  more  pensive,  melancholy  nature ; 
but  she  understood,  too,  how  to  open  that  stricken  one's 
heart,  to  receive  sympathy  from  those  it  held  most  dear. 
Pressing  her  lips  to  the  poor  girl's  pallid  cheek,  she  said, 
in  a  voice  so  full  of  affection  : 

"  Dearest  Mary,  I  have  been  away  so  long  a  time  !  I 
found  mother  in  such  a  miserable,  nervous  state,  and  alone 
and  desolate  as  she  is,  duty  compelled  me  to  stay  till  she 
fell  asleep.  Then  I  did  not  lose  one  moment,  but  leaving 
her  in  Nora's  care  I  hastened  here.  Have  you  been  alone 
all  this  long  day?" 

"Alone  !  "  was  the  reply;  "  oh,  so  alone  !  "  and  then  start 
ing  up  and  clasping  her  hands  to  her  forehead,  she  ex 
claimed,  "  Nellie,  my  head  is  bursting  with  this  fiery  pain  : 
this  moment  I  must  go  to  my  mother !  Do  not  prevent 
me !  "  she  pleaded,  as  her  companion  put  her  detaining 
arm  about  her. 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  7 

"  Do  not  keep  me  longer  in  this  fearful  suspense !  Hark ! 
I  hear  her  groaning !  yes,  she  is  dying  !  I  know  she  is  —  and 
I,  her  only  daughter,  not  at  her  side ! " 

As  she  said  this,  she  sprang  wildly  towards  the  door,  and 
would  have  rushed  out,  had  not  her  companion  prevented 
her. 

"What  is  this,  my  poor  Mary,  what  do  you  feel — tell 
your  Nellie,  what  do  you  hear  ] " 

But  the  frantic  girl  struggled  violently,  and  but  for  the 
superior  strength  of  Helen  Ashland  would  have  escaped 
from  the  room. 

AVith  the  tenderness  and  firmness  of  a  mother,  the  noble 
girl  raised  the  little  sufferer  in  her  arms,  and  laid  her  back 
upon  the  couch  ;  then,  with  her  soothing  tones,  she  quieted 
her  ravings ;  and,  with  her  cool,  soft  hand,  she  bathed  the 
burning  brow,  till  the  fire,  which  seemed  raging  there,  was 
quenched.  From  the  more  quiet  breathing  of  the  stricken 
one,  Helen  thought  she  might  with  safety  leave  her,  for 
a  moment,  to  procure  a  light ;  and  when  she  returned,  she 
was  surprised  to  find  Mary  sitting  up  —  all  marks  of  her 
momentary  delirium  gone  from  her  pale,  sad  face,  and  her 
hands  busy  with  putting  up  her  disarranged  hair,  which 
had  fallen  over  her  shoulders. 

"I  am  going  to  mother,  Nellie,"  she  said,  in  a  sad  but 
firm  tone,  as  her  companion  approached  her.  "  I  can  no 
longer  be  kept  from  my  right — my  duty.  They  fear  my 
weakness.  They  are  right,  I  have  been  weak ;  but  I  will  be 
so  no  longer.  I  will  not,  as  a  feeble  child,  shrink  from 
witnessing  the  agony  which  she  must  endure,  when  my  firm 
ness  and  careful  watching  may  comfort  her — may,  perhaps, 
soothe  her  anguish." 

As  she  paused,  Helen  seated  herself  beside  the  earnest 
girl,  and,  drawing  her  head  down,  so  that  it  should  rest 


8  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

upon  her  bosom,  she  said,  "  But  your  father,  Mary,  and  Dr. 
Graham,  too,  have  again  and  again  refused  you  admittance 
to  that  room.  Do  you  think  they  will  yield  more  readily 
now,  when  they  see  your  face  so  haggard  and  pale  ?  No, 
no,  Mary,  it  is  better  —  " 

"Better !  "  exclaimed  Mary,  passionately ;  "  Nellie,  if  you 
would  not  bring  back  that  awful  pain  to  my  poor  head — if 
you  would  not  drive  me  to  distraction  —  say  not  another 
word  !  Who  should  stand  by  the  suffering  mother,  if  not 
her  only  daughter?  If  you  or  I,  Nellie,  lay  upon  a  bed  of 
sickness,  think  you  any  human  power  could  keep  mamma 
from  her  suffering  child  1  No,  I  am  sure  not !  and  now, 
whoever  may  oppose  me,  I  must  go  to  her;  for  something 
whispers  me  she  is  dying  !  But  she  must  not  —  I  cannot 
let  her  —  my  love  shall  hold  her  from  the  grave!"  and 
again  her  face  became  distorted  with  anguish.  Helen  saw 
that  she  must  not  oppose  her  cousin.  There  was  that  in 
her  child-face  that  awed  and  astonished  her.  One  twenty- 
four  hours  of  suffering  had  wrought  in  the  poor  child  such 
a  change,  that  the  beholder  could  scarcely  believe  her  the 
same,  whose  merry,  unrestrained  laugh  had  made  glad 
music  in  that  home.  The  light  of  happiness  had  flown, 
and  left  that  thin,  sallow  face,  with  its  gray  eyes,  so  dis 
proportionately  large,  almost  frightful  to  look  upon. 

With  all  the  strength  which  she  could  call  to  her  aid,  it 
was  feebly  that  she  arose  to  go  to  her  mother.  But  her 
cousin  was  at  her  side.  "  Lean  upon  me,  Mary,"  said  the 
noble  girl;  "lean  upon  me  heavily,  dear,  so — "  and  she 
half  carried  the  trembling  child  with  her  substantial  arm. 
Silently,  and  as  rapidly  as  Mary's  strength  would  allow, 
they  passed  through  the  hall ;  and,  before  they  reached  the 
door,  her  step  had  become  comparatively  firm  with  reso 
lution  and  excitement.  Helen  paused  to  rap  for  admis- 


THE   MONTGOMERYS.  9 

sion;  but  Mary's  "hush!"  and  her  detaining  hand,  pre 
vented  her. 

"  I  must  go  in.  whether  they  will  or  not !  "  she  said ; 
but  just  as  her  hand  was  upon  the  lock,  the  confusion 
within  arrested  her  movement,  and  then  a  moan — feeble, 
but  so  full  of  agony  that  it  was  distinctly  audible  above 
everything  else  —  fell  upon  her  ear.  For  an  instant,  she 
staggered;  and,  but  for  the  upholding  arm  of  her  compan 
ion,  she  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor.  The  perspiration 
came  thick  upon  her  cold  brow  and  hands,  and  Helen's 
alarm  was  becoming  most  intense,  when  another  sound 
reached  the  ear  of  the  sinking  girl,  and  passed  as  an  electric 
shock  through  her  whole  frame.  It  was  the  low  wail  of 
an  infant.  In  a  moment,  she  was  upon  her  feet ;  and,  quickly 
as  a  thought,  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  two  girls  stood 
within  the  sick-chamber. 


10  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Lay  the  babe  upon  my  bosom,  let  me  feel  its  sweet,  warm  breath, 
For  a  strange  chill  o'er  me  passes,  and  I  know  that  it  is  death. 
I  would  gaze  upon  the  treasure,  scarcely  given,  ere  I  go, — 
Feel  its  little  dimpled  fingers  wander  o'er  my  cheek  of  snow. 

THERE  they  stood  —  Mary's  eyes  riveted  upon  the  bed 
where  lay  her  mother;  but  that  loved  face  was  hid  from 
her  view  by  her  father,  who  pillowed  the  head  of  his  wife 
upon  his  bosom. 

In  a  moment,  everything  had  been  hushed,  and  Dr. 
Graham  was  bending  over  the  sufferer,  holding  one  of  her 
hands  in  his.  They  were  waiting  for — yes,  that  deadly 
silence  could  be  caused  only  by  the  expectation  of  that 
angel  which  so  desolates  our  homes !  At  length,  the  sick 
woman  moved  her  head,  and,  in  a  voice  so  sweetly  sad,  and 
yet  so  feeble,  said,  "  Ellwood,  where  are  you,  dearest?" 

"Here,  Alice,"  he  answered;  "you  are  lying  in  my 
arms.  Do  you  not  see  me,  darling?  " 

"  Yes,  now :  but  I  am  dying,  my  husband.  You  must 
soon  be  without  your  Alice,  who  has  loved  you  second  only 
to  her  God.  But  I  leave  you  our  children  to  love,  and  to 
love  you.  Our  children,  Ellwood  !  Even  in  this  bitter 
hour  of  parting,  that  thought  gives  mo  exquisite  joy.  For 
my  sake,  as  well  as  for  your  own  and  theirs,  be  to  them 
tender  and  forgiving,  as  would  I  have  been,  had  God 
spared  my  life ."  And  then,  as  if  she  feared  this  charge 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  11 

might  contain  a  reproach,  she  added  quickly,  "I  know 
you  will  be  all  that  a  noble  man  and  true  father  can  be." 

For  a  moment  her  head  sank  lower,  and  her  eyes  closed ; 
then,  again  arousing  herself,  she  said,  hastily,  "  Our 
daughter — our  loving  Mary  —  may  I  not  see  her  once 
more,  Ellwood  ?  And  Nellie,  too,  dear  as  my  own  child  ?" 

The  two  girls,  who,  until  this  moment,  had  not  moved, 
gave  Mr.  Montgomery  no  time  to  answer ;  but,  gliding  to 
the  bedside,  Mary  laid  her  face  down  by  the  side  of  her 
mother's,  which  already  wore  the  hue  of  death,  and,  in  a 
voice  so  loaded  with  sorrow  that  it  might  have  stirred  a 
heart  of  stone,  she  said,  "  Here,  mamma,  is  your  poor  child !  " 

Oh,  the  agony  of  a  mother  in  such  an  hour  as  this ! 
Her  child  —  who  has  never  committed  a  fault  but  the 
atonement  of  tears  has  been  poured  out  upon  her  bosom  — 
so  tender  and  forgiving  !  There,  joys  and  sorrows  have 
alike  found  a  willing  ear.  Now,  when  life  —  real  life  —  is 
about  to  open  to  that  timid  but  hopeful  one  —  to  think  and 
know  that  no  longer  can  her  care,  so  untiring,  surround 
her  child,  but  alone  and  uncomforted,  she  must  shed  those 
silent,  bitter  tears,  so  surely  a  part  of  woman's  destiny ! 

At  first,  the  struggle  was  almost  too  much  for  the  dying 
woman;  but  at  length  she  regained  her  power  of  speaking: 
"Nellie,"  she  said,  reaching  her  weak,  trembling  hand 
toward  the  fair  girl,  who  stood  gazing  upon  her  more  than 
mother,  with  a  face  full  of  the  most  inexpressible  sadness, 
"come  closer  to  me,  my  darling ;  lay  your  beautiful  head 
upon  this  bosom  once  more.  How  often  has  it  lain  here, 
child  of  my  sister  Helen !  You  are  not  less  dear  to  me 
than  my  own  Mary. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,  my  daughters,"  she  continued  in  a 
firmer  tone,  and  her  face  brightened  with  a  light  which 
seemed  scarcely  earthly :  "I  am  going  away  from  you ; 


12  THE    MONTGOMEEYS. 

life  is  fast  gliding  beyond  my  grasp.  But  you  will  not 
forget  all  that  I  have  striven,  though  weakly  perhaps,  to 
teach  you.  It  is  with  much  confidence  that  I  leave  you 
to  each  other,  for  you  have  both  learned,  I  hope,  where  to 
go  for  comfort.  I  will  not  charge  you  to  be  ever  mindful 
of  the  comfort  of  your  father,  your  uncle.  Your  loving 
hearts  will  prompt  you  to  the  performance  of  those  thous 
and  little  acts  which  lie  within  woman's  reach,  and  which 
are  so  grateful  to  the  sorrowing,  world-wearied  spirit ! 

"  But  now  listen,  Helen,"  said  the  dying  woman,  laying 
her  hand  upon  the  bowed  head  of  the  kneeling  girl ;  "  your 
home  must  still  be  beneath  this  roof,  when  I  am  gone. 
Oh !  how  much  must  my  dear  one  look  to  you  for  comfort. 
But  listen,  my  child,  while  this  mother's  heart  cries  out  to 
you  for  one  of  its  cherished  ones  !  I  leave  my  George  — 
my  high-spirited,  wayward  boy  —  to  you!  He  was  my 
first-born,  Nellie ;  and  oh,  how  this  heart  clings  around  him  ! 
The  others  are  equally  dear ;  but  they  were  his  lips  that 
first  called  me  by  that  beautiful  name,  'Mother!' — the 
sweetest  music  that  ever  fell  upon  woman's  ear.  And  oh ! 
around  it  cluster  life's  brightest  joys.  I  know  what  you 
are  to  him ;  and  when  I  am  gone,  your  hand  must  more 
than  ever  smooth  his  brow  when  in  trouble  —  your  gentle 
firmness  must  check  his  turbulent  spirit ;  and,  sometimes, 
Nellie,  talk  to  him  of  me  —  of  Heaven  —  of  God  —  so  may 
he  be  brought  to  look  to  the  true  Comforter  in  the  sorrows 
which  life  must  bring  to  such  as  he. 

"  This  will  be  to  him  a  bitter  trial ;  for  his  heart  is  full 
of  love  for  me.  For  a  time  he  will  be  inconsolable;  but 
time  and  your  sympathy  will  soften  and  subdue  his  grief. 
You  must  be  his  earthly  comforter,  and  your  unwavering 
Christian  influence  must  lead  him  to  that  fountain  of  all 
good,  through  which  we  hope  for  happiness  beyond  this 


THE    MONTGOMEBYS.  13 

world.  To  you,  Helen,  I.  leave  this  boy  —  my  first-born, 
one  of  my  heart's  jewels !  " 

For  a  moment  her  eyes  closed,  and  both  hands  rested 
upon  that  bowed  head.  It  seemed  as  if  she  was  leaving 
there  her  heart's  benediction  and  strength.  And  then  she 
resumed  in  a  more  feeble  voice,  "As  to  my  other  boy — my 
gentle-spirited  Orlando — for  him,  I  have  no  fear;  he  will 
weep,  but,  in  his  grief,  he  will  comfort  you  all !  Tell 
him  —  tell  both  my  beautiful  boys,  their  mother  talked  of 
them  with  her  last  breath  —  that  her  last  heart-throbs  were 
for  them,  her  heart's  jewels !  Oh,  may  they  be  kept  un 
tarnished  from  the  world ! 

"  And  now,  my  husband,  call  Margaret  quickly ;  for  I 
would  look  once  upon  my  babes  before  I  go ;  I  know  my 
time  has  almost  come  !  " 

The  faithful  old  nurse  was  at  her  side,  and  in  those 
same  strong  arms  which  had  fondled  so  tenderly  the 
mother  in  her  infancy,  she  bore  the  two  new-born  babes ! 
Fearfully  she  laid  the  tiny  son  and  daughter  by  the  dying 
mother's  side.  "  Oh !  my  babes  can  never  know  how 
great  was  their  mother's  love,  that  made  even  Death  stand 
aside  till  their  little  lives  were  safe  !  With  this  one  first 
and  last  kiss  upon  their  innocent  lips,  I  give  them  to  you> 
Mary  !  Be  to  them  a  mother,  as  well  as  elder  sister !  Look 
upon  them  as  a  dying  mother's  legacy  —  a  sacred  trust — 
and,  my  daughter,  should  they  prove  wayward  —  as  they 
often  may  —  should  they  perplex  your  head  and  heart  — 
remember  that  they  are  motherless,  and  blame  them  gently ; 
for  to  you,  only,  can  they  look  for  a  mother's  love  !  Mar 
garet,  take  them  away  now,  and  be  to  them  faithful,  as  you 
have  been  to  their  mother.  May  Heaven  bless  you  and 
them !  " 

As  she  said  this,  a  spasm  passed  over  her   deathlike 


14.  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

face  —  her  heart  was  almost  torn  asunder,  as  link  by  link 
she  felt  the  chain  severed  which  bound  her  to  life.  Sud 
denly  she  rallies  !  not  one  friend  could  she  forget,  even  in 
this  hour  of  agony.  Turning  her  eyes  upon  Dr.  Graham, 
who  still  kept  his  place  at  her  side,  she  extended  toward 
him  her  hand,  and,  in  the  most  plaintive  tone,  she  said: 
"  How  can  I  better  repay  my  obligation  to  you,  kindest  and 
best  of  friends,  than  by  doubling  it !  Be  to  rny  husband  — 
iny  family  —  full  of  care  and  truth,  as  you  have  ever  been. 
In  this  last  trial,  tongue  can  not  tell  how  consoling  has 
been  your  presence,  how  sweet  your  words  of  hope ;  but 
now  I  feel  that  all  will  soon  be  over !  Is  not  my  hand 
growing  cold,  Dr.  Graham  ?  " 

He  pressed  her  hand  between  his  own,  as  if  to  warm  it : 

but  made  no  other  reply,  for  the  cold  dampness,  which  was 

there,  told  him  too  plainly  of  the  rapid  approach  of  Death  ! 

"  I  knew  it  was  so,"  whispered  the  dying  woman  ;  "  do 

not  fear  to  tell  me,  for  I  am  growing  stronger  in  spirit ! 

Hold  me  closer,  Ellwood  —  closer — closer,  dearest;  for  I 

am  growing  cold !     Breathe  upon  my  cheeks,  for  they  are 

icy !     My  children,  Ellwood,  my  dear  husband !  oh,  how 

%this  parting  wrings  my  heart !     Farewell !  farewell !  " 

There  was  one  struggle,  and  all  was  still  —  that  stillness 
which  weighs  upon  the  brain  as  a  mountain  load  !  Then 
Mary  arose,  and,  looking  once  upon  that  face,  she  gave  one 
low  wail,  so  full  of  agony  it  could  only  come  from  a  break 
ing  heart ;  and,  in  her  despair,  she  threw  herself  wildly  upon 
that  mother's  bosom,  her  child-arms  encircling  that  mater 
nal  form.  Again,  the  dying  woman's  features  were  con 
vulsed  with  life ;  again  those  transparent  lids  quivered  as 
if  about  to  unclose,  and  then  a  smile,  so  full  of  heavenly 
love  and  hope,  settled  upon  that  fa£e,  and  all  was  hushed! 
This  life,  for  that  pure  womanly  spirit,  was  over.  Though 


THE   MONTGOMERYS.  15 

the  wail  of  her  stricken  child  had  power  for  one  moment  to 
detain  the  mother's  departing  spirit,  yet  Death  had  lost  all 
its  terrors,  and,  with  a  smile  which  left  that  marble  face 
most  beautiful  to  look  upon,  the  soul  had  gone  to  God 
who  gave  it. 

So  kindly  did  Dr.  Graham  unclasp  the  little  hands  of 
the  insensible  Mary,  and  as  tenderly  as  had  she  been  his 
own  child  did  he  bear  her  in  his  arms  to  her  own  chamber, 
and  with  a  woman's  gentleness  laid  her  upon  her  bed.  As 
he  threw  back  the  heavy,  brown  hair,  which  had  fallen 
around  her  as  a  veil,  the  light  fell  upon  her  still  face,  and 
one  might  well  believe,  from  the  tranquil  pallor  which 
rested  there,  that,  in  its  anguish,  the  spirit  had  parted  from 
its  frail  companion,  the  body. 

"Poor  child,"  said  Dr.  Graham,  musingly,  as  he  bent 
over  her,  looking  down  into  her  sad,  young  face;  "the 
unclouded  joyousness  of  thy  life  is  over;  the  fate  of  the 
motherless  is  before  thee;  happy  would  it  be  for  thee,  if 
that  sensitive  heart  were,  indeed,  stilled  forever !  " 

A  tight  grasp  upon  his  arm  aroused  him  from  his  reverie; 
and,  turning  quickly,  he  found  Helen  Ashland  standing  at 
his  side.  Her  bloodless  lips  were  parted,  and  her  large  blue 
eyes,  now  almost  wild  with  terror,  were  fixed  upon  the  face  of 
her  cousin,  so  still  and  deathlike.  He  took  that  little  hand, 
which  was  grasping  his  arm  so  convulsively,  between 
his  own. 

"  What  is  this,  my  poor  child;  what  do  you  fear?"  he 
asked  hurriedly.  "  This  is  but  a  fainting-fit,  from  which  she 
will  soon  recover — too  soon,"  he  continued,  as  he  saw  life 
returning  to  that  terrified  face;  "too  soon  for  her  poor 
breaking  heart."  For  a  moment,  the  revulsion  of  feeling 
was  almost  too  much  for  even  Helen's  strength,  and  she 


16  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

leaned  heavily  upon  the  arm  which  encircled  her  so  like. a 
father's. 

After  watching  that  face,  till  the  look  of  frozen  terror 
had  left  it,  and  in  its  place  came  such  a  look  of  abandoned 
sadness,  the  doctor  said  in  such  a  deep,  earnest  voice : 
"Nellie,  arouse  yourself,  my  child;  'tis  not  for  you  to  wear 
such  a  face  as  that.  You  are  strong,  and  now,  more  than 
ever,  you  must  be  an  elder  sister  to  this  little,  suffering, 
motherless  one ;  for,  weakly  sensitive  as  she  is,  grief  will 
not  kill  her!  you  must  be  more  than  sister,  Nellie.  All  — 
every  thing  that  you  have  found  in  her  mother  —  you  must 
now  supply  to  the  sorrowing  daughter  !  Yes,  my  child,  I 
understand  what  means  that  look  !  Your  grief  needs  no 
words;  but  I  tell  you,  Helen  Ashland,  you  are  strong,  and 
you  must  forget  your  own  sorrow,  for  the  sake  of  the  child 
of  her  who  made  place  for  you  in  her  heart  and  home, 
when  Death  had  made  you  an  orphan !  Will  you  not 
show  me,  Nellie,  how  truly  brave  can  be  a  girl  of  eighteen 
years  —  how  she  can  always  remember  others  and  never 
herself?"  As  he  said  this,  the  doctor  held  her  two  little 
hands  in  his  strong,  manly  ones ;  and  his  steady  gaze  into 
that  changing  face,  into  those  deep,  thoughtful  eyes,  seemed 
to  impart  strength  to  the  half-shrinking  mourner. 

In  a  moment,  she  seemed  to  have  lost  sight  of  the  present, 
and  the  future  of  which  her  companion  had  been  speaking — 
the  future,  so  full  of  work — was  before  her  !  Not  until  a 
moment  after  Dr.  Graham  had  ceased  speaking,  did  she 
reply ;  and  then,  her  half  whispered  "  I  will  try  to  be  all  you 
would  have  me,"  was  as  nothing,  to  the  expression  of  firm 
resolve  in  that  beautiful,  young  face.  But  it  told,  too,  of  a 
strong  heart  wrestling  with  a  great  grief!  Even  the  sym 
pathizing  doctor  dreamed  not  of  the  struggle  that  was 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  17 

going  on  in  that  poor  child's  breast  —  the  second  time  made 
an  orphan  ! — but  he  saw  all  he  wished  for  in  that  noble  face. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  am  not  to  be  disap 
pointed  :  my  ward  will  be  all  her  dead  parents  could  have 
wished  —  all  that  I  have  dared  to  hope.  Such  a  beautiful 
mingling  of  sensibility  and  strength  !  "  Then,  arousing  him 
self  from  his  reverie,  he  said :  "  Will  you  promise  me  one 
thing,  Helen  ?  if  in  future  this  brave  head  or  heart  should 
be  in  doubt  or  trouble,  will  you  not  come  to  me  for  coun 
sel,  aid,  or  sympathy  1  Old  as  I  arn,  lonely,  and,  as  some 
may  think  me,  half  misanthrophic,  I  have  still  a  heart 
which  can  feel  —  oh,  how  deeply  !  — for  the  child  of  Helen 
Wilson !  And  now,  since  there  is  none  to  claim  as  a  right 
the  place  of  protector,  may  I  not  be  father  to  the  child  of 
her  I  loved  more  than  life  1 " 

This  last  was  said  almost  passionately ;  but  he  went  on 
in  a  calmer  tone,  but  so  full  of  sympathy  and  aifection  : 
"Do  you  promise  me,  Nellie,  to  confide  in  me,  to  tell  me, 
unreservedly,  all  the  joys  and  griefs  that  may  stir  your 
heart,  that  I  may  laugh  or  weep  with  you  ?  Remember, 
my  child,  the  bosom  upon  which  you  have  from  infancy 
leaned — into  which  you  have  poured  the  secrets  and  sor 
rows  of  your  girlhood  —  is  now  cold  and  still  forever !  Now 
may  not  I,  who  loved  your  mother  as  I  loved  my  own  soul, 
be  to  you,  her  only  child  — guardian  —  aye,  more  than  that, 
confidant  —  father,  even  ]  " 

As  Helen  gazed  into  Dr.  Graham's  face,  and  listened 
to  these  words,  as  they  came  so  freely,  so  unrestrainedly, 
from  his  lips,  she  almost  forgot  her  grief,  in  her  admiration 
for  the  man  before  her.  There  she  saw  love,  so  chastened 
by  sorrow  that  not  a  shadow  of  earthly  passion  marred  its 
beauty.  The  young  girl  read  in  a  moment  the  heart's  secret 
of  that  mature  man.  A  secret  the  world  had  never 


* 
18  THE   MONTGOMERYS. 

dreamed  of;  and  artless  as  she  was,  untaught  in  the  world's 
tactics,  she  reverenced,  next  to  God,  the  noble  man  who 
had  remained  so  true  to  his  first  and  only  love. 

Unhesitatingly  she  gave  him  the  promise  he  asked ;  for 
could  she  not  trust  him  who  had  been  so  faithful  to  that 
mother  of  whom  she  had  not  even  a  baby  recollection. 

Silently  they  now  both  turned  their  attention  to  the  in 
sensible  Mary,  into  whose  cheeks  the  tide  of  life  was  again 
flowing.  Dreadful  was  her  awakening  from  this  deep  in 
sensibility  —  at  first,  like  coming  out  of  a  fearful  dream  ; 
and  then  the  truth,  so  dark  she  would  gladly  have  shut 
her  mind  against  receiving  it,  forced  itself  upon  her. 

Who  that  has  mourned,  knows  not  of  the  despair  which 
follows  the  first  awakening  from  sleep  after  a  great  grief? 
Then  it  is  that  the  brain  is  almost  maddened  by  its  anguish. 
It  is  worse  than  useless  to  attempt  a  description  of  the 
despairing  mind ;  for  add  black  midnight  to  Egyptian  dark 
ness,  and  it  were  bright  sunlight,  compared  to  the  darkness 
of  the  hopeless  soul,  in  the  bitter  first  night  of  sorrow. 

For  poor  Mary  there  now  seemed  no  consolation,  and 
her  companions  made  no  attempts  at  comforting.  She 
uttered  no  complaint ;  but  the  low  moan  which  occasionally 
escaped  her  lips,  told  more  than  could  any  lamentation, 
loud  and  long. 

Dr.  Graham  knew  enough  of  human  nature  and  human 
suffering  to  understand  how  words  would  but  agitate  more 
fearfully,  when  they  brought  to  the  suffering  one's  mind 
the  assurance  that  now  a  stranger  must  speak  comfort  to 
the  poor  distracted  child,  instead  of  that  angel  mother, 
whose  voice,  so  gentle  and  loving,  had  ever  before  responded 
to  her  daughter's  smallest  complaint. 

As  he  watched  her  —  where  she  lay  upon  her  pillow,  so 
still,  her  eyes  closed,  and  her  face  altogether  wearing  that 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  19 

expression  of  perfect  exhaustion  and  despair  —  he  saw  that 
rest  alone  could  restore  her  strength  enough  to  weep. 

So  nervous  was  she  that  every  sound,  even  the  lightest 
footfall,  brought  a  spasm  of  pain  to  that  sorrow-stricken 
child-face ;  and  he  judged  rightly,  that  solitude  would  now 
be  better  for  her  than  anything  else.  Telling  Helen  to 
prepare  her  cousin  for  retiring,  he  went  to  mix  a  soothing 
draught ;  and  after  she  had  been  carefully  arranged  in  her 
bed  by  Helen's  sisterly  hand,  he  gave  it  her  without  a 
word,  and,  bidding  Helen  Ashland  join  him  in  the  sitting- 
room  as  soon  as  she  bad  finished  the  arrangements  in  her 
cousin's  chamber,  he  walked  silently  away. 

So  absorbed  had  he  become  with  his  own  thoughts,  as  he 
tramped  to  and  fro  through  the  dimly  lighted  apartment, 
that  Helen's  languid  step  failed  to  arouse  him,  and  she 
stood  some  moments  leaning  against  the  mantlepiece 
ere  he  observed  her;  then,  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
he  seated  her  tenderly  in  an  arm-chair  before  the  grate. 

"  Strange  .that  I  did  not  hear  you,  Helen,  when  it  was 
of  you  I  was  thinking."  She  half  smiled  in  answer,  and 
the  doctor  guessed  rightly,  that  she  scarce  heard  his  remark, 
or  had  comprehended  naught  of  it,  save  the  kindly  tone  in 
which  it  was  uttered ;  but  he  went  on,  after  seating  himself 
beside  her :  "  Nellie,  you  will  not  disturb  Mary  again  to 
night;  there  will  be  a  time. when  your  sisterly  sympathy 
will  be  most  sweet  to  her,  but  not  yet;  if  any  one  should 
go  near  her  to-night,  let  it  be  old  Margaret.  Her  motherly 
fondling  and  caresses  may  make  the  poor  child  weep,  and 
so  relieve  her  distracted  brain  and  bursting  heart.  And 
now,  my  child,  you  must  have  some  rest ;  those  cheeks  have 
lost  their  roses  ; —  and  now  that  you  are  my  girl,  I  shall  take 
good  care  that  you  don't  make  yourself  sick."  Dr.  Gra 
ham  had  arisen  while  speaking,  and  was  now  bending  over 


20  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

his  companion ;  but  she,  by  no  word,  look,  or  movement, 
manifested  having  heard  him.  Her  head  was  bowed  upon 
her  hand,  and  her  face,  half  concealed  by  the  shadow,  spoke 
volumes  of  sadness. 

Dr  Graham  bent  lower,  and  smoothed  back  her  hair 
most  caressingly  from  her  beautiful  forehead.  Anxiously 
he  watched  the  workings  of  that  young  face. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  I  said  to  you,  Nellie?  There  will 
be  much  for  you  to  do  to-morrow.  All  will  look  to  you 
for  comfort  and  help ;  and  only  a  good  night's  rest  can 
make  you  fit  for  the  work." 

A  mingled  expression  of  sorrow  and  impatience  passed 
over  the  young  face.  "How  can  you  talk  to  me  of  rest — 
sleep  —  Dr.  Graham  ?  Oh  !  you  know  not  the  desolation 
of  the  twice-orphaned  child  !  " 

As  she  said  this,  she  stretched  her  hands  back,  wearily, 
over  her  head,  as  if  she  would  relieve  an  aching  void. 

"  I  can  not  know  all  you  suffer,"  said  the  doctor,  in 
an  earnest  but  unsteady  voice;  "but,  Helen,  it  is  because 
I  know  that  you  loved  your  aunt,  because  you  looked  upon 
her  with  all  the  tenderness  and  devotion  of  a  daughter,  and, 
that  her  memory  will  be  sweet  to  you  as  the  memory  of  her 
who  gave  you  birth,  that  I  ask  of  you  to  be  to  hers,  what 
you  alone  can  be !  You,  Helen,  know  better  than  any  one 
else,  what  this  home  has  lost :  you,  who  have  tasted  the 
bitterness  of  having  a  stranger  fill  that  place  from  whence 
Death  stole  the  household  angel.  From  this  experience 
you  have  become  strong ;  and  now,  though  your  heart  be 
bursting  with  agony,  you  must  not  yield  to  it  as  would  a 
weaker  spirit." 

Poor  Helen  uttered  a  low  cry,  which  seemed  wrung  from 
her  very  soul.  She  felt  this  was  too  much,  for  had  this 
blow  taken  from  her  every  one  she  loved,  earth  could  not 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  21 

have  been  more  desolate ;  and  yet  she  could  not  be  allowed 
the  luxury  of  despair. 

"My  poor  Nellie,"  said  Dr.  Graham,  passing  his  arm 
around  her,  "  look  up  in  my  face,  my  child.  Now  tell 
me,  will  you  be  brave  and  strong,  forgetting  your  own  griefs, 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  are  bound  to  you  by  the  tender- 
est  of  all  ties  —  for  the  sake  of  the  poor,  motherless  Mary ; 
and  listen,  Nellie,  for  the  sake  of  George !  "  The  doctor 
spoke  this  in  such  a  voice  of  compassionate  command,  that 
the  half-despairing  girl  felt  she  must  not  yield  to  that  load 
which  seemed  weighing  her  down ;  and  now  she  thought, 
"  Oh,  had  I  some  one  to  aid  me !  " 

Yet  that  earnest  look  of  strength,  which  ever  rested  in 
the  doctor's  kind  eyes,  seemed  to  pass  into  the  young  girl's 
soul  that  moment.  She  could  not  speak — to  have  told  her 
companion  by  words  all  that  she  would  strive  to  do,  would 
have  been  quite  impossible.  Yet,  in  that  womanly  face,  he 
read  all  he  wished  to  know  of  her  soul — that  the  strong  will 
would  triumph  over  even  this  storm  of  sorrow.  She  gave 
her  hands  to  him  as  a  good-night,  for  a  something  in  her 
throat  would  not  let  her  speak.  How  encouraging  was  the 
warm  good-night  pressure  those  little  hands  received  — 
how  grateful  the  fatherly  kiss  which  the  good  doctor 
pressed  upon  her  fair  brow,  as  he  led  her,  with  all  the  gal 
lantry  and  gentleness  of  his  younger  days,  to  the  door. 
I  A  father's  voice  could  not  have  expressed  a  more  deep 
affection  than  did  his,  in  that  so  much  needed  benediction 
of  "  God  strengthen  you,  my  child."  Was  it  that,  or  the 
earnest  and  humble  prayer  of  the  nearly  crushed  spirit 
which  secured  that  peace  and  strength  of  mind  which 
ended  in  a  slumber  sweet  as  an  infant's?  Wfco  can  tell? 
But  the  soul  that  has  been  stricken,  and  yet  knows  not  the 
consolation,  the  strength,  to  be  derived  from  prayer,  knows 


22  THE    MONTOOMERTS. 

not  that  satisfaction  which  comes  from  the  remembrance 
of  a  pray  ing  friend — one  whose  supplications  go  up  to  the 
true  fountain  of  all  strength  and  love  continually  for  the 
spirit  submerged  in  sorrow — such  an  one,  oh,  how  must  we 
pity  the  desolation !  Might  not  angels  weep  to  witness 
the  anguish  and  darkness  of  such  a  soul  ? 

As  Helen  passed  out  of  the  door  and  through  the  hall, 
Dr.  Graham  watched  her,  till  an  angle  in  the  passage  con 
cealed  her  from  view ;  then  he  turned  back  into  the  sitting- 
room  ;  and,  seating  himself  in  the  chair  she  had  left  vacant, 
he  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  for  a  long  time 
seemed  wrapped  in  a  troubled  reflection.  "  Poor  child,  poor 
child!  "  he  murmured  aloud,  "why  do  I  feel  such  painful 
forebodings  for  thee,  when  I  know  thy  strength  ?  That  very 
strength  troubles  me  —  and  such  beauty  too,  and  thy  guar 
dian  angel  gone.  This  is  a  stormy  world  for  such  an 
honest,  upright  soul ;  and  who  can  tell  how  many  trials 
await  thee.  I  almost  wish  that  thou  -wert  feeble,  or  that 
I  was  indeed  thy  father,  then  how  jealously  would  I  shield 
thee  from  every  uncongenial  breath.  But  no,  it  may  not  be  ; 
every  supporting  arm  is  withdrawn ;  and  others  look  to 
thee  for  that  strengthening  and  consoling  which  thy  own 
heart  so  much  craves.  Only  heavenly  aid  is  left  thee." 
He  arose,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  slowly  and 
thoughtfully ;  then  he  stopped  before  the  grate,  and  looked 
into  the  smouldering  embers,  as  if  he  would  there  read  the 
destiny  of  some  loved  one.  "  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  at  length, 
putting  his  hand  to  his  brow,  as  if  he  would  remove  some 
load  which  weighed  heavily  there,  "  it  must  be  so  ;  this  dis 
cipline  of  sorrow  which  commenced  when  she  was  but  a 
child,  must  be. to  prepare  her  for  some  work — some  great 
work.  Such  a  mind  was  not  created  for  selfish  ease,  nor 
would  it  be  content  with  it ;  for  only  the  feeble  in  spirit 


THE    MONTGOMERTS.  23 

delight  in  hugging  themselves.  My  Helen  in  heaven,  hear 
me !  It  shall  be  the  one  great  object  of  my  life,  to  watch 
over  thy  own  beautiful,  orphaned  child;  and  should  her  feet 
stumble  or  grow  weary  in  the  rough  and  thorny  path  which 
is  before  her,  oh,  how  tenderly  will  these  arms  bear  her  up  !" 
With  this  resolve,  the  noble  man  prepared  for  his  depart 
ure  from  that  house,  in  which  sorrow  held  now  so  large  a 
place. 

After  a  visit  to  death's  chamber,  and  one  look  in  upon  old 
Margaret,  watching  so  tenderly  her  infant  charge,  to  whom 
he  gave  a  kindly  word  of  sympathy  and  encouragement,  he 
drew  his  warm  cloak  around  him,  and  passed  out  from 
that  house  of  mourning  into  the  still,  solemn  midnight. 

Instead  of  the  storm  which  had  been  raging  for  the  last 
many  hours,  everything  was  hushed,  and  the  stars  shone 
down  brightly  and  coldly  on  all  beneath.  Just  then,  the 
bells  rang  out  their  merry  Christmas  chime,  and  for  the 
first  time  he  remembered  it  was  Christmas  Eve,  the  time 
when  the  whole  world  must  rejoice — even  they  who  are  in 
deep  affliction  must  lift  their  thankful,  thought-stricken 
hearts  to  heaven,  for  the  hope  which  is  given  them  through 
the  birth  of  a  Saviour  —  the  hope  of  meeting  their  ."loved 
and  lost,"  in  a  land  where  parting  shall  be  no  more. 


24  THE   MONTGOMEEYS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

And  lo!  she  had  changed ;  in  a  few  short  hours 
Her  bouquet  had  become  a  garland  of  flowers, 
That  she  held  in  her  outstretched  hand,  and  flung 
This  way  and  that,  as  she  dancing,  swung, 
In  the  fullness  of  grace  and  womanly  pride, 
That  told  me  she  soon  was  to  be  a  bride ; 
Yet  then,  when  expecting  her  happiest  day, 
In  the  same  sweet  voice  I  heard  her  say : 
"  Passing  away !  passing  away !" 

— WHITTIKB. 

HELEN  Wilson  and  Alice  Hawley  were  cousins  by 
birth ;  but  circumstances  most  painful  had  made  them 
foster-sisters.  The  latter  had  no  remembrance  of  the 
child-mother  who  purchased  the  life  of  her  babe  with  her 
own,  which  had  been  so  short  and  joyous ;  and  of  her 
father  .  she  knew  little  more. 

Young,  and  full  of  animal  life  and  hope,  Charles  Hawley 
found  it  a  most  bitter  awakening  from  his  radiant  dream 
of  happiness,  when  the  lovely,  frail  flower  he  had  treasured 
so  fondly  was  snatched  from  his  arms.  But  one  short  year 
had  he  pillowed  that  sunny  head  upon  his  bosom,  and  now, 
at  the  moment  when  he  thought  his  cup  of  happiness  was 
to  be  made  doubly  sweet,  it  was  dashed  from  his  lips  and 
shattered  into  a  thousand  fragments.  He  was  inconsolable  at 
his  loss ;  and  when  at  last  the  grave  closed  over  his  child- 
wife,  he  felt  that  there  was  but  one  tie  which  made  life  endu- 


THE    MONTGtfMERYS.  25 

rable  —  the  love  which  he  bore  the  babe  of  his  lost  Alice. 
For  weeks,  his  sole  employment  and  only  consolation  was 
to  fondle  that  tiny  daughter,  and  trace  in  its  baby  face 
resemblance  to  his  "  loved  and  lost."  But  his  passionate, 
untamed  nature,  could  not  long  endure  such  inaction. 
Daily  a  morbid  melancholy  was  growing  upon  him,  which 
was  undermining  his  health  ;  and  it  took  but  a  word  from 
anxious  friends  to  decide  him  to  seek  diversion,  or,  at  least, 
distraction  from  his  griefs,  in  travel. 

With  a  most  provident  care,  he  arranged  his  pecuniary 
affairs,  so,  should  any  misfortune  overtake  him  in  a  foreign 
land,  the  worldly  wants  of  his  daughter  would  be  provided  for 
amply  •  and  then,  clasping  the  fair  babe,  Alice,  in  his  arms, 
again  and  again,  he  laid  her  upon  the  bosom  of  his  only 
sister,  bidding  her  to  be  to  the  helpless  one  a  sister,  for 
his  sake,  and  a  mother,  for  the  sake  of  the  beautiful  mother 
in  heaven  —  he  bade  farewell  to  his  home,  turning  his  back 
upon  his  native  land,  forever. 

Mrs.  Wilson's  arms  encircled  the  motherless  child  as 
tenderly  as  had  it  been  her  own ;  and  her  daughter,  but  a 
few  months  Alice's  senior,  shared  with  her  little  cousin  the 
maternal  food.  Mirthfully  would  she  crow  out  her  joyous- 
ness,  when  the  orphaned  one  took  her  place  upon  the 
mother's  bosom  ;  and,  in  their  cradle-bed,  she  seemed  to 
assume  the  right  of  protecting,  which  her  superior  physical 
strength  by  nature  gave  her. 

It  was  beautiful  to  see  her  round,  dimpled  arm,  ever  em 
bracing  the  infant  Alice,  who,  though  in  perfect  health, 
had  inherited  much  of  the  frailty  of  her  young  mother;  and, 
baby  as  she  was,  she  nestled  most  confidingly  in  the  arms 
of  her  infant  companion. 

Thus,  for  five  years,  they  grew  together  with  but  one 

thing  to  ever  mar  their  childish  happiness. 
2 


26  THE   MONTGOMERY?. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  expected  the  time  would  come,  and, 
perhaps,  very  soon,  when  the  little  shoot,  which  had  been 
engrafted  into  their  affections,  would  be  claimed  by  its  pa 
rent;  and  so,  constantly  they  had  endeavored  to  hold  it 
us  a  treasure  in  trust.  To  the  little  ones,  they  often 
talked  of  the  stranger-papa,  who  would,  some  day,  come 
for  his  little  Alice,  and  take  her,  perhaps,  faraway  from  them. 

The  child's  large,  brown  eyes,  would  wear  such  a  dreamy 
look,  when  they  told  her  of  this,  and  she  would  ask  so 
many  strange  questions  of  her  far  off  father  and  dead 
mother,  that  her  adoptive  parents  could  but  clasp  her  to 
their  bosoms  in  silence.  But  the  high  spirited,  passionate 
Helen  would  weep  pitiously  at  the  thought  of  such  a  sep 
aration,  and,  throwing  her  arms  about  her  wondering  com 
panion,  she  would  tell,  how  closely  she  would  hold  her,  that 
the  strange  man  should  not  take  her  away.  Then  all  would 
so  soon  be  forgotten  by  the  happy  children,  and  their  voices 
would  ring  out  as  merrily  as  had  childhood  naught  but 
sunshine. 

So  five  years  passed.  Occasionally  they  heard  from  the 
wanderer  in  a  foreign  land  —  heard  of  his  restless  roaming 
through  forests,  over  wild  mountains,  and  across  desert 
sands ;  and  then  all  tidings  of  him  ceased.  Day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  month  after  month,  passed,  and  yet  they 
waited  hopefully  for  something  further — but  no  tidings 
came.  Then  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  began  to  turn  their  eyes 
sorrowfully  upon  the  little  one,  whom  they  now  feared  was 
wholly  orphaned.  Day  after  day,  they  felt  the  little  pen 
sive  one  working  her  way,  deeper  and  deeper,  into  their 
hearts,  which  now  opened  freely  to  receive  her ;  and  at  last 
they  felt  she  was  as  dear  to  them  as  their  own  frolicsome 
Helen.  When  finally  NTS.  Wilson  was  compelled  to  give 
up  the  last  lingering  hopp,  how  many  sad  hours  did  she 


THE    MOXTGOMERYS.  27 

spend  weeping  for  her  only  dearly  loved  brother.  Often 
would  she  picture  to  herself  his  last  moments,  when  a 
stranger  hand  supplied  his  wants;  and  a  stranger  voice 
answered  to  his  dying  call.  Or,  perhaps,  more  desolate 
still,  alone  and  in  agony,  unattended  and  uncared  for,  the 
spirit,  so  foil  of  love,  parted  from  its  frail,  suffering  com 
panion.  Gradually  her  grief  softened  down  into  a  more 
tender  devotion  for  the  child,  in  whose  fair  face  she  could 
every  day  see  more  and  more  of  the  lost  brother  and  father 
developed.  Thus,  for  two  years  they  said  nothing  of  their 
fears  to  the  little  one ;  yet  her  pensive  spirit  caught  the 
sadness  of  their  tones,  and  whenever  she  asked  them  of 
her  "  dear  papa,"  her  voice  was  subdued  to  a  whisper. 

The  child  knew  not  why  her  mirth  should  be  hushed 
when  she  spoke  of  that  parent,  yet  something  had  whispered 
her  baby  heart,  that  sadness  clustered  around  the  very 
thought  of  that  loved  one. 

Seven  years  had  she  been  a  member  of  this  fond  family, 
and  for  two  years  they  had  heard  nothing  of  the  wandering 
father. 

One  day  Mrs.  Wilson  called  the  child  from  her  playful 
companion,  and  taking  her  tenderly  in  her  arms,  she  told 
her  now  she  should  never  leave  them ;  that  Helen  should 
be  her  sister,  and  Helen's  parents  should  be  her  parents. 
There  was  no  brightening  of  her  child-face  at  this ;  and 
with  a  sad  earnestness  she  looked  at  her  aunt,  and  asked  if 
her  "darling  papa"  would  be  there,  too!  and  when  her 
aunt  told  her  so  gently  that  he  had  gone  to  her  mammajn 
heaven,  where  she  would  sometime  see  them  both,  if  she 
was  always  good; — oh,  how  the  little  orphaned  one  wept 
upon  that  bosom,  which  felt  for  her  all  that  a  mother's  could. 
So  silently  she  wept;  yet  the  heavy  sobs  told  how  the 
little  heart  was  wounded.  Hour  after  hour  did  she  lay 


28  THE   MONTGOMERYS. 

nestling  in  that  tender  embrace,  uttering  not  a  complaining 
word;  and  at  last  she  was  still,  save  an  occasional  sob, 
which  would  come  up  from  her  little  heart  wrhich  had  been 
so  fearfully  agitated. 

Little  Helen  heard,  with  a  heart  bound  of  joy,  that 
Alice  was  now  all  their  own;  but  her  quick,  sympathising 
eye  caught  the  sorrowful  look  of  her  favorite,  and  she  gave 
no  expression  to  her  gladness;  but  when  she  saw  her 
grieving  more  deeply  than  she  had  ever  grieved  before, 
how  quietly  she  crawled  upon  the  sofa,  and  nestled  at  her 
mother's  side,  her  little  fingers  caressing  so  tenderly  the 
beautiful  head  of  her  cousin,  till  at  last,  with  this  unusual 
quietness,  her  head  fell  upon  her  mother's  arm,  and  she 
sank  into  a  most  peaceful  child-slumber. 

After  this,  all  went  on  quietly  and  lovingly.  Alice  was 
too  young  for  grief  to  crush  her  child-heart  —  and,  save  a 
little  more  sadness  in  her  beautiful,  dreamy  eyes,  and  per 
haps  an  increased  pathos  in  that  bird-like  voice,  she  was  the 
same  as  before.  Had  it  been  possible,  Helen  would  have 
been  gayer  than  ever ;  for  now  there  no  longer  hovered 
over  her  that  dread  fear  of  losing  her  beloved  com 
panion  and  playfellow. 

In  spirit  and  temperament,  the  two  girls  were  entire 
opposites ;  and  while  Helen's  gaiety  would  sometimes  win 
her  reflective  cousin  from  her  beautiful  dreams,  Alice's 
pensive  face  and  manner  would  soften,  and  often  hush  her 
half-boisterous  companion. 

So  they  passed  from  childhood  to  girlhood  ;  from  girl 
hood  to  womanhood,  joyous  and  happy — full  of  moral 
health  and  strength ;  for  the  woman  who  had  made  the 
care  of  her  family  the  business  of  her  life,  was  no  less  a 
mother  to  the  child  of  her  adoption  than  to  the  one 
nature  had  given  her.  Few,  few,  indeed,  understand  the 


THE   MONTGOMEBTS.  29 

necessities  of  the  human  heart  as  did  Mrs.  Wilson,  and 
day  after  day  did  she  labor  most  patiently  and  prayerfully, 
to  prepare  her  daughters  for  the  work,  which,  as  women, 
must  lie  before  them. 

Thus,  hand  in  hand,  these  two  girls  pursued  their  studies 
as  well  as  amusements;  and  when,  at  twenty  years  of  age, 
their  teachers  were  dismissed,  and  society  so  gladly  opened 
its  ranks  to  receive  them  in,  seldom  had  two  more  at 
tractive  girls  moved  in  the  fashionable  and  unsurpassed 
circles  of  Philadelphia. 

Each  seemed  to  heighten  the  attraction  and  beauty  of 
the  other ;  for  while  the  merry  voice  of  Helen  rang  out 
most  merrily,  drawing  around  her  crowds  of  admirers  who 
delighted  in  listening  to  her  well-timed  and  good-natured 
wit,  the  cheerful  but  more  reflective  Alice  made  all  feel 
how  great  a  gem  was  an  intelligent,  well-educated  woman ; 
and  no  one  listened  to  her  unsurpassed  conversation  with  a 
more  proud  delight  than  did  her  fun-loving  cousin. 

Among  the  suitors  who  looked  with  almost  devotion 
upon  Alice  Hawley  was  Ellwood  Montgomery,  a  young 
man,  and  a  lawyer,  who  was  rising  rapidly  in  his  profession. 

He  was  all  that  one  could  ask  —  fine  looking,  intelligent, 
and  devoted ;  besides,  what  to  both  Alice  and  her  foster-pa 
rents  was  of  first  importance,  and  without  which  everything 
else  would  have  been  as  nothing,  unwavering  in  principle. 

Six  months  after  Alice  had  first  entered  the  gay  whirl 
of  society,  with  the  full  approbation  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wil 
son,  she  had  pledged  to  Ellwood  Montgomery  her  hand, 
and  with  it  she  felt  she  could  give  her  heart — her  life. 
Oh !  what  hours  of  happiness  were  those  to  the  young, 
dreamy  girl;  for  there  was  that,  in  her  proud,  sober  lover, 
which  made  her  feel  that  she  could  lean  with  the  most 
unreserved  confidence  upon  his  strong  arm. 


oU  THE    MOXTGOMERYS. 

And  Helen,  the  proud,  joyous  Helen,  had  found  she  too 
had  a  heart  large  enough  for  the  frank,  whole-souled  Henry 
Ashland.  Her  parents  might  have  wished  for  their  fun- 
loving  child  a  husband  less  yielding  where  he  loved; — 
but  he  was  well  worthy  the  affections  which  had  been  be 
stowed  upon  him,  and  the  happiness  of  their  child,  whose 
whole  life  had  been  one  steady  expansion  of  sunshine, 
forbade  their  opposing  the  union,  even  by  a  look. 

And  now  Mrs.  Wilson,  the  true  mother,  had  her  most 
trying  year's  work  before  her.  To  feel  that  the  two  lovely 
girls,  who  had,  from  their  earliest  infancy,  looked  to  her  for 
counsel  and  sympathy,  in  joy  and  in  sorrow,  must  so  soon 
look  to  those  comparatively  strangers  —  so  soon  others 
would  have  the  keeping  of  their  happiness  —  so  soon  they, 
so  free,  so  hopeful,  and  so  confiding,  might  find  this  new 
path  strewn  thickly  with  thorns  —  all  these  thoughts  and 
forebodings  came  into  her  mind,  and  made  her  heart  heavy 
with  care.  But  it  was  not  hers  to  repine,  while  there  was 
still  work  for  her  to  do ;  but  to  prepare,  to  the  best  of  her 
ability,  her  children  for  the  voyage  which  lay  before  them, 
that,  through  no  neglect  of  hers,  should  they  make  ship 
wreck  of  their  happiness. 

Beautiful,  thrice  beautiful,  is  it  to  see  the  truly  devoted 
mother  sending  back  the  tear  unasked,  which,  fur  a  mo 
ment,  glistened  in  her  eye^ — pressing  down  the  heavy  sob 
which  is  rising  in  her  throat,  as,  with  a  "  God  bless  you," 
she  gives  her  daughter  to  the  arms  of  him  who  has  sworn 
to  love,  guard,  and  cherish  her  as  his  own  soul.  Never  is 
woman  more  lovely,  save  when  she  pillows  her  first-born 
upon  her  bosom. 

As  the  time  approached  for  yielding  up  their  treasures, 
it  was  with  trembling  hope  and  earnest  prayer  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wilson  glanced  at  the  unknown  future  of  their 


THE     MONTGOMERYS.  3L 

darlings;  yet  they  would  hope  that,  instead  of  losing  their 
household  jewels,  they  were  about  adding  to  them  :  for  the 
year  which  the  two  lovers  had  been  welcome  guests  at 
the  home  of  their  loved  ones  had  convinced  the  parents 
that,  although  they  were  not  without  their  faults,  still 
were  they  possessed  of  rare  virtues ;  and,  with  their  devo 
tion  to  the  two  fair  beings  they  had  chosen  from  all  the 
world,  might  there  not  be  more  of  joy  than  sorrow  in  that, 
as  yet,  untrodden  way  ? 

In  Helen,  this  new  life  of  love  had  made  a  great  change. 
Still,  she  was  so  joyous,  and  her  voice,  so  full  of  melody, 
made  glad  music,  as  she  wandered  through  that  old  home 
of  her  childhood;  yet  there  was  a  something  of  sadness  in 
it,  that  brought  a  tear  to  every  listener's  eye,  when  happy 
smiles  wreathed  her  lips  —  a  something  which  said  she  was 
going  away  from  what  she  had  loved  so  fondly  there  — 
was  leaving  all  for  one,  oh,  how  dear  !  And  when  a  warn 
ing  voice  within  her  asked  so  solemnly,  "  Should  sorrow 
come  and  hush  thy  silvery  laugh  and  dim  thy  radiant  eye ; 
should  sickness  pale  thy  cheek,  or  care  weave  silvery 
threads  amid  that  soft  brown  hair;  will  he,  thy  chosen  one, 
still  be  true  tothee?"  her  true  heart  of  love  echoed,  "  Still 
true  to  me !  "  She  had  given  her  all  so  unreservedly  to 
him,  and,  had  he  not  given  her  his  love  in  return,  how 
truly  beggared  she  must  have  been  !  But  it  was  all  her 
own,  and  she  felt  it  so. 

Alice,  too,  was  changed.  She  had  never  looked  on  life 
as  so  bright  a  thing  as  had  her  companion — how  could  she, 
orphaned  as  she  was  ? — and,  though  her  foster  parents  were 
dear  to  her  —  seemed  to  lose  her  as  their  own  child  —  yet, 
in  her  solitary  hours,  her  heart  would  heave  a  sigh,  a  tear 
would  dim  her  eye,  when  she  remembered  that,  in  all  this 


32  THE     MOXTGOMERYS. 

wide  world,  there  was  not  one  heart  beating  for  her  which 
nature  had  designed  as  a  protector. 

But  now,  how  different !  She  could  feel  that,  in  all  this 
world,  there  was  none  so  dear  to  her  proud  and  noble  lover 
as  she ;  and  her  heart  bounded  with  pride  and  joy,  as  she 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when,  before  the  world,  she 
should  give  her  all  into  the  keeping  of  that  man  she  so 
wholly  trusted.  Oh  !  could  we  see  woman  oftener  bestow 
such  trusting  love  upon  a  man  worthy  of  it,  might  we  not 
hope  for  more  real  domestic  happiness  in  this  world  of 
ours  1  In  such  a  case,  though  sorrow  may  come  and  cast 
a  dark  shadow  over  life's  path,  still,  love  will  lighten  the 
way,  and  bind  closer  hearts  true  and  trusting. 


THE   MONTGOMERYS.  33 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Bride  and   bridegroom,  pilgrims  of  life,  henceforward  to  travel 

together, 
In  this,  the  beginning  of  your  journey,  neglect  not  the  favor  of 

Heaven : 

Let  the  day  of  hopes  fulfilled  be  blessed  by  many  prayers, 
And  at  eventide,  kneel  ye  together,  that  your  joy  be  not  unhallowed. 

Oh,  Death  !    what  art  thou  ?  antitype  of  Nature's  marvels  — 

The  seed,  and  dormant  chrysalis,  bursting  into  energy  and  glory  — 

Thou  calm,  safe  anchorage  for  the  shattered  hulls  of  men  — 

Thou  spot  of  gelid  shade,  after  the  hot,  broad  desert  — 

Thou  silent  waiting-hall,  where  Adam  meeteth  with  his  children  — 

How  full  of  dread  —  how  full  of  hope,  loometh  inevitable  Death  ! 

Of  dread,  for  all  have  sinned  ;  of  hope,  for  One  hath  saved. 

GAILY  passed  this  double  wedding.  It  was  a  family 
affair.  Xot  the  most  fashionable,  but  dearest  and  best- 
loved  friends  were  there,  to  sympathize  in  that  joy  which 
had,  mingled  with  it,  so  much  of  sorrow,  or,  rather,  sadness  ; 
for  those  parents  could  not,  for  one  moment,  forget  that 
this  was  the  closing  up  of  that  uninterrupted  confidence, 
which  had  ever  existed  between  them  and  the  two  lovely 
beings  which  now  stood  before  them  in  all  the  pride  of 
most  beauteous  brides. 

'T  is  not  strange  that  a  mother  should  weep,  when  she 
sees  her  daughter  wedded  to  one,  however  noble,  who 
must  bear  her  from  that  home  which  has  known  her  since 
first  those  eyes  were  opened  upon  this  world ;  and  he  who 
could  be  offended  by  such  tears  is  not  worthy  the  treasure 
2* 


34  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

which  is  being  given  to  his  keeping.  Let  him,  in  pride, 
aye,  in  selfishness,  kiss  away  the  answering  drops  from  the 
eyes  of  his  bride ;  for  only  the  fondly  affectionate  daugh 
ter  can  make  a  truly  loving  wife. 

Mrs.  Wilson  did  weep,  when  she  kissed  her  daughters, 
and  would  have  wished  them  joy,  but  for  the  heavy  sobs 
which  swelled  her  throat ;  and  Helen,  ever  so  full  of  joy, 
now  clung  to  her  mother's  bosom,  trembling  as  a  frightened 
bird.  They  were  Henry  Ashland's  hands  that  unclasped 
her  clinging  arms,  and  drew  her  so  gently  to  his  side ; 
and,  as  she  leaned  upon  him  so  trustingly,  he  thought  her 
more  beautiful  than  he  had  ever  before  beheld  her,  and 
that  night,  with  her  kneeling  at  his  side,  he  thanked  heaven 
that  they  had  such  a  mother. 

Alice,  ever  accustomed  to  controlling  her  emotions, 
brushed  quickly  away  the  tear  which  escaped  from  her 
soft  brown  eyes,  and  her  newly  made  husband  was  not 
more  proud  of  this  manifestation  of  feeling  than  was  he  of 
such  self-command  in  one  so  young.  It  pleased  his  dignity 
of  character,  and  he  thought,  "  Such  is  the  woman  I  would 
have  stand  at  my  side  —  would  have  for  my  companion  — 
would  see  at  the  head  of  my  house." 

There  was  one  thing  that  gave  Mrs.  Wilson  great  con 
tentment  in  yielding  up  the  happiness  of  her  two  children 
to  the  keeping  of  those  who  now  had  a  better  claim  to 
them  than  she.  They  were  men  who  not  only  believed 
in,  but  professed  the  Christian  Religion,  and  peacefully 
would  she  have  rested  that  night,  could  she  have  heard  the 
earnest  but  humble  prayers  that  were  offered  up  to  heaven 
by  each  newly-wed  pair. 

Beautiful  and  most  interesting  were  the  two  homes  where 
these  newly-made  wives  entered  upon  the  dignity  of  house 
keeping.  Well  were  they  prepared  for  this  new  position, 


THE    MOXTGOMEBYS.  35 

and  each  found  the  care  of  her  husband's  home  a  delight, 
rather  than  a  burden. 

Neither  of  the  young  men  had  wealth,  but  each  found 
himself  able  to  place  his  wife  in  a  home  with  all  the  com 
forts  and  many  of  the  luxuries  of  life  ;  and  the  good  pro 
fession  of  the  one,  as  well  as  the  fine  business  position  of 
the  other,  promised  rich  success  in  life. 

At  last,  when  all  was  settled,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson 
were  left  in  their  dear  old  family  mansion  alone,  how  wea 
rily  did  the  hours  begin  to  hang!  Morning,  noon,  and 
night,  they  missed  those  two  dear  faces  from  their  board  j 
and  the  merry  young  voices,  which  for  twenty-one  years 
had  rung  through  their  old -halls,  made  glad  music  in  other 
homes.  To  leave  that  roof,  which  had  sheltered  them  so 
kindly  in  life's  happiest  and  saddest  hours,  they  felt  would 
be  impossible ;  yet,  how  could  they  stay  there,  and  their 
light  gone  ?  At  last,  Henry  Ashland  listened  to  the  plead 
ings  of  his  loving  Helen,  who  could  not  endure  to  see  those 
dear  faces  so  sad,  so  expressive  of  loneliness,  and  almost, 
reluctantly  he  left  that  little  bowery  home,  where,  with  his 
fair  young  wife,  he  had  felt  such  sweet  contentment, — left  it 
for  one  of  elegance,  where  the  hand  of  taste  and  refinement 
had,  for  many  years,  been  busy  in  adorning  it  within  and 
without.  To  his  satisfaction,  he  very  soon  found  that  it 
was  she  he  best  loved,  who  had  made  all  so  full  of  sunshine, 
and,  with  the  happiness  he  felt  they  were  bestowing  upon 
her  parents,  he  could  not  regret  the  change. 

And  now  four  years  glided  swiftly  away  with  their  light 
and  shadow,  and  they  left  in  the  home  of  Ellwood  Mont 
gomery  two  bright,  laughing  boys.  Maternity  had  a 
thousand  times  heightened  the  beauty  of  Alice,  who  looked 
upon  the  father  of  her  children  with  a  deeper  and  holier 
love,  than  did  she  upon  the  proud  and  devoted  bridegroom  : 


36  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

and  the  gaiety  of  our  joyous  Helen  was  subdued  into  a 
matronly  cheerfulness,  when  she  pressed  an  infant  daughter 
to  her  bosom. 

What  golden  links  were  those  little  lives  in  the  domes 
tic  chain  !  so  pure  —  so  strong  —  they  bound  a  thousand 
times  closer,  loving  hearts. 

Strange  it  seemed,  that  so  long  this  family  circle  had 
remained  unbroken;  but  now,  unseen  and  unsuspected, 
save  by  one,  the  destroyer  was  making  his  way  among 
them.  Mrs.  Wilson's  life  of  labor  was  done,  and  gradu 
ally  she  was  sinking  into  the  grave.  But  so  gradual  was 
her  decline,  that  those  who  loved  her  so  fondly,  watched 
over  her  so  carefully,  failed  to  see  her  danger,  until  just  as 
that  life  seemed  flickering  in  the  socket.  They  knew  she 
had  ever  been  frail ;  yet,  how  many  years,  with  her  cheek 
almost  as  pale  as  now,  had  she  toiled  unceasingly  for 
others ;  and  now,  when  all  were  watching  to  make  smooth 
her  downward  way,  it  was  strange  she  could  faint  and  die. 
Yet  so  it  was ;  and  she  shrank  not  from  the  approaching 
end :  for  she  felt,  that,  with  God's  help,  she  had  done 
faithfully  her  work,  and,  through  His  redeeming  love,  she 
possessed  a  hope  which  lighted  her  path  even  beyond  the 
tomb.  Beautiful  as  the  eve  of  an  autumnal  day,  was  the 
closing  up  of  that  useful  life  ;  and  the  hearts  winch  bled 
with  anguish  hushed  their  grief,  that  they  might  not  dis 
turb  the  placidity  of  that  lovely  spirit  in  its  last  earthly 
communion. 

To  Mrs.  Ashland  this  was  a  stunning  blow.  Day  after 
day  she  pined  over  it,  as  helplessly  as  an  infant  would  pine 
over  the  loss  of  the  breast  which  gave  it  nourishment.  So 
sadly  would  she  smile,  when  her  friends  most  dear  would 
strive  to  win  her  from  her  grief,  half-forgetting  their 
present  sorrow,  in  their  fear  of  an  added  one.  But  it  was 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  37 

of  no  avail.  So  cloudless  had  been  her  whole  life,  that 
now  the  first  adverse  wind  chilled  her  loving  heart,  and 
not  even  the  bright  sun  of  affection  could  warm  it  into 
life  again. 

Dr.  Graham,  who  was  called,  hesitated  long  ere  he 
could  believe  it  possible  that  that  beautiful  woman,  wife, 
and  mother,  but  a  day  since  so  full  of  life  and  hope,  must, 
indeed,  die.  But  when  he  saw  her  fading  —  as  a  fair,  frail 
flower,  over  which  a  rude  tempest  had  passed  —  he  told 
her,  as  gently  as  would  a  brother,  the  sad  truth. 

As  he  held  her  hand  in  his  own,  and  talked  to  her  of 
death,  a  tear-drop  fell  upon  it ;  and  so  feelingly  did  she 
thank  him  for  his  tenderness  toward  her ! 

Oh !  she  read  not  the  secret  which  was  treasured  up  so 
jealously  in  that  manly  heart.  She  dreamed  not  of  the 
hopes  for  long  years  cherished,  and  then,  in  a  moment, 
crushed,  and  now  dead  forever!  Ever  had  she  admired 
him,  and  in  their  home,  since  her  marriage,  as  before,  he 
had  been  a  welcome  visitor,  and  to  her  husband  he  was  an 
honorable  friend. 

The  love  which  he  had  from  boyhood  borne,  and  which 
he  still  bore,  the  woman  who  had  been  won  by  another, 
was  not  of  that  gross  and  selfish  kind  which  shines  upon 
a  pure,  beautiful  being,  but  to  blast  it ;  but  it  was  that 
noble,  unselfish  affection  which  purifies  and  elevates 
wherever  it  may  exist,  and  which  will  shield  its  object 
from  every  wrong,  though  life  itself  must  be  the  sacrifice. 
Alone  he  wept,  when  that  joyous  life  he  had  so  zealously 
guarded  went  out.  To  Mr.  Ashland,  he  could  speak  no 
words  of  comfort;  but  to  Mr.  Wilson  —  the  widowed  and 
childless  old  man,  whom  sorrow  had  shaken  more  than 
years  —  his  sympathy  was  most  gratifying.  Hour  after 
hour,  would  he  listen  most  patiently  to  the  old  man's  half- 


38  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

childish  and  half-manly  tales  of  his  younger  days,  (for  now 
he  seemed  to  live  only  in  the  past,)  the  time  when  the  wife 
he  now  mourned  was  a  young  bride,  and  then  he  would 
brighten  as  he  told  of  the  coming  of  that  little  life,  which, 
for  twenty-five  years,  wras  to  him  as  a  bright  ray  of  sun 
light;  and  then  following  through  scene  after  scene,  he 
would  seem  to  be  living  over  again  those  bright  days  of 
joy,  till  at  last,  coming  suddenly  upon  the  closing  up 
scene,  he  would  startle  from  his  waking  dream,  and  his 
grief  would  burst  out  anew —  doubly  violent  that  it  had 
been  for  one  moment  forgotten  in  the  remembrance  of  the 
joys  of  the  past!  Silently  —  almost  tearlessly,  did  Mr. 
Ashland  bear  his  bereavement !  Save  when  he  looked 
upon  his  infant  daughter  —  the  fair  child,  who  with  her 
mother's  name,  had  inherited  much  of  her  beauty  —  he  sel 
dom  wept.  The  loving  prattle  of  this  innocent  one  would 
sometimes  move  him  to  tears,  and  so  relieve  the  agony  of 
his  overburdened  heart.  Young,  even,  as  he  was,  life 
seemed  to  him  burdensome ;  and  he  looked  with  almost 
envy  upon  the  old  man  at  his  side,  who  seemed  tottering 
upon  the  very  verge  of  life. 

Day  after  day  did  Mrs.  Montgomery  go  to  this  house  of 
mourning,  with  her  gentle  presence  and  ever-thoughtful 
acts,  to  make  less  desolate  those  dear  ones,  who  mourned 
as  seldom  man  mourns ;  and  then,  with  the  infant  Helen, 
now  six  months  old,  she  divided  the  maternal  food  which 
belonged  to  her  infant  son. 

Little  did  Mrs.  Wilson — the  noble,  unselfish  woman  — 
think,  when  long,  long  years  before  she  was  fostering  the 
orphaned  infant  of  her  brother  —  that  she  was  casting 
bread  upon  the  waters,  which  should  thus  return  to  hers. 

Fondly  would  the  babe  cling  to  the  tender  woman,  and 
after  putting  it  away  again  and  again,  each  time  yielding, 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  39 

motherlike,  to  its  baby  pleadings  for  one  more  kiss  —  one 
more  caress  —  she  would  have  to  leave  it  with  its  half- 
grieved  and  half-pouting  face,  to  its  doting  grandfather, 
who,  childlike  as  he  was  becoming,  would  forget  every 
thing  in  his  fondness  for  that  grandchild.  Occasionally, 
by  Mr.  Ashland's  reluctant  consent,  Margaret,  the  faithful 
creature  who  had  fondled  Mrs.  Montgomery  when  an  in 
fant,  and  who  now  watched  over  these  two  wild  boys  with 
a  fondness  unsurpassed  even  by  the  mother — occasionally, 
this  kind  old  woman  would  take  the  little  Helen  to  spend 
the  day  with  the  Montgomerys,  when  the  three  children 
would  become  so  gay  arid  happy  in  their  amusements,  al 
ways  aided  by  the  faithful  nurse,  and  generally  watched% 
carefully  by  the  doting  old  grandfather,  who  followed  the 
little  one  wherever  she  might  be  taken. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  evenings,  when  Mr.  Ashland 
came,  as  was  his  custom,  for  his  little  Helen,  that  he  found 
the  two  children  of  his  friends  tumbling  and  rolling  upon 
the  carpet,  their  wild  laugh  ringing  through  the  nursery, 
as  each  in  his  turn  would  come  upon  the  top,  while  the  old 
grandfather  sitting  in  an  easy-chair  near,  amused  himself 
by  aiding  first  the  one  and  then  the  other  in  their  getting 
up  or  tumbling  down.  And  then,  nestled  in  the  arms  of 
Mrs.  Montgomery,  her  little  face  half  hid  upon  that  moth 
erly  bosom,  was  his  own  little  daughter;  while  seated  just 
beside  her,  his  arm  half  encircling  the  form  of  his  wife,  was 
Mr.  Montgomery. 

Mr.  Ashland  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  had  interrupted  a 
conversation  between  husband  and  wife,  and  from  the  sad 
ness  of  their  faces  when  they  greeted  him  with  a  brotherly 
and  sisterly  kindness,  he  guessed  that  he  or  his  was  the 
subject  of  it.  Little  Helen  raised  her  baby  head,  and 
crowed  out  her  delight  at  seeing  her  father;  but  when  he 


40  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

readied  out  his  arms  to  take  her,  she  clasped  her  own  lit 
tle  dimpled  ones  about  the  neck  of  her  aunty,  and  hid  her 
sunny  face  upon  that  bosom  which  had  pillowed  her  head 
so  gently  while  she  slept.  The  sadness  deepened  upon 
the  father's  face,  as  he  saw  the  child  of  his  lost  wife  turn 
from  him  and  cling  to  the  bosom  of  another.  He  seated 
himself  in  a  chair  which  stood  near,  and  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  hand. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montgomery  forbore  speaking,  for 
they  saw  that  this  simple  and  natural  act  of  the  inoffensive 
babe  had  stirred  strangely  the  heart  of  their  brother — how 
deeply,  even  they,  with  all  their  sympathy,  could  not  guess. 

After  a  moment,  the  bereaved  man  again  bent  over  his 
child,  and  passing  his  hand  so  carefully  over  its  sunny 
head,  he  said,  "Poor  papa!  Little  Nellie,  his  own  little 
daughter,  does  not  love  him — will  not  give  him  one  kiss  !  " 
Young  as  she  was,  the  sorrow  in  the  tone,  the  sadness  in 
the  face,  spoke  to  her  little  sympathizing  heart,  and  in  a 
moment  she  raised  her  little  face  to  her  father's,  and  clasped 
her  soft  arms  about  his  neck.  Oh,  how  much  of  the 
dead  mother  did  he  see  in  that  act  of  sympathy  and  self- 
sacrifice  !  Silently  he  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  and  his 
tears  fell  upon  her  fair  head.  Her  little  dimpled  hand  was 
laid  upon  that  cheek  now  stamped  by  sorrow,  and  its  gen 
tle  pressure,  so  full  of  tenderness,  spake  comfort  to  his 
heart.  For  a  long  time  they  sat  thus,  when  at  last  Mr. 
Montgomery  said,  in  answer  to  a  pleading  look  from  his 
wife:  "Henry,  Alice  and  I  were  talking  of  that  little  sen 
sitive  babe,  when  you  came  in,  I  know  it  may  seem  to 
you  almost  cruel  —  the  thought  of  depriving  you  of  what 
may  be  considered  your  last  earthly  comfort ;  but  do  you 
not  know,  brother,  as  much  as  you  are  away  from  home, 
she  is  left  too  much  to  the  care  of  servants,  who,  if  they 


THE    MONTGOMEIIYS.  41 

have  the  will  have  cot  the  ability  to  train  her  as  you 
would  have — as  Helen  would  wish  her  —  trained.  They 
know  nothing  of  that  discipline  of  heart  and  mind  which 
should  commence  in  these  early  months  of  infancy,  and 
which  will  be  so  necessary  to  the  motherless  girl." 

"  I  know  all  this,"  was  Mr.  Ashland's  unhesitating  reply; 
"  I  have  thought  of  it  most  anxiously  for  many  days  :  but 
what  am  I  to  do  1  To  put  her  out  to  nurse  is  little  better ; 
for  women  who  receive  motherless  babes  for  hire,  are 
scarcely  superior,  in  mind  or  morals,  to  my  own  servants." 

"  But  if  Alice  would  take  her,"  said  Mr.  Montgomery, 
much  relieved  by  his  friend's  calm  consideration  of  the 
matter,  "  what  would  you  say  to  that  1  Our  own  babe 
takes  up  much  of  her  time ;  but  they  are  so  nearly  of  an 
age, and  Margaret  so  faithful,  I  think  Orlando  might  get  on, 
if  he  were  to  spare  a  half  of  his  mother's  attention  to  his 
little  cousin,  I  did  object  to  it  at  first,  on  account  of  my 
wife's  health ;  but  she  has  overruled  all  my  arguments 
which  oppose  her  wishes,  and  I  yield  to  her,  without 
further  opposition.  In  her  care,  it  seems  to  me,  Helen 
will  be  happy  and  content;  for  in  her,  I  am  sure,  she 
will  find  as  true  a  mother  as  do  her  own  children." 

It  was  not  in  words,  that  Mr.  Ashland  thanked  his  friends 
for  this  unexpected  kindness  —  a  kindness  which  none 
could  know  how  to  value  better  than  did  he,  a  tender  and 
devoted  father.  Before  he  left,  it  was  arranged,  that  the 
next  day  the  little  one  should  come  to  them  to  remain  for 
the  present.  As  Mr.  Ashland  arose  to  leave,  Mrs.  Mont 
gomery  followed  him  to  the  door. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  you  must  never  allow  a  day  to 
pass,  that  you  do  not  come  to  us ;  for  you  can  never 
imagine  how  much  even  an  infant  may  long  for  the  love  of 
those  who  are  nearest  to  them,  as  kin.  Her  first  rernem- 


42  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

brances  must  be  of  her  father  ;  for  none,  save  those  who 
have  borne  it,  dream  of  the  sadness  of  the  orphan's  heart. 
She  is  a  child  who  must  love  ardently,  and,  would  we  see 
her  happy,  we  must  love  her  fondly  :  for,  with  all  our  care, 
there  will  be  hours  when  she  will  feel  that  she  is 
motherless." 

To  Mr.  "Wilson,  this  trial  was  even  greater  than  to  Mr. 
Ashland.  The  mind  of  the  latter  was  somewhat  absorbed 
by  business,  while  the  old  man,  so  alone,  felt  it  was  taking 
from  him  a  ray  of  sunlight  —  that  last  one;  —  and  he 
brooded  over  it  so  mournfully  that  it  gave  his  friends 
great  anxiety.  At  last,  by  the  continued  persuasion  of  his 
adopted  daughter  and  her  husband,  he  came  to  spend  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  with  them,  often  coming  at  early 
morning,  and,  for  a  whole  day,  sporting  with  or  sympa 
thizing  in  their  sports,  as  gaily  as  any  of  the  infant  ones. 

For  a  year,  nothing  transpired  to  vary  the  quiet  and 
happiness  of  the  children,  and  every  day  the  little  moth 
erless  Nellie  was  growing  dearer  to  every  member  of  the 
Montgomery  family. 

Then  came  a  rumor  to  the  ears  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mont 
gomery,  that  the  father  of  the  little  one  was  about  to  take 
to  his  home  and  his  heart  one  to  fill  the  place  of  her  he 
lovea  and  mourned.  They  would  have  rejoiced  at  such  a 
prospect,  had  the  woman  of  his  choice  been  worthy  of  him, 
or  had  there  been  even  a  hope  that  she  would  make  his 
home  any  thing  but  purgatory  to  him ;  but  they  refused 
to  believe  it  possible  that  he  who  had  ever  loved  the 
noble-looking  and  noble-hearted  Helen  AVilson,  could 
possibly  find  aught  to  attract  him  in  the  dark,  artful  Flora 
Darlington. 

But  soon  they  found  it  too  true,  for,  hard  as  it  was, 
Henry  Ashland  would  confide  in  the  woman  who  had 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  43 

been  to  him  a  sister,  and  to  liis  child  a  mother.  When  he 
told  .her  of  this  —  when  he  talked  of  another  woman  filling 
the  place  of  the  mother  of  little  Xellie —  he  wept  as  had 
his  grief  heen  a  new  one ;  but  home  and  heart  were  deso 
late  ;  he  was  deprived  of  the  society  of  his  child ;  and 
another  year,  passed  as  had  been  the  last,  he  felt  would  be 
more  than  he  could  endure. 

Then  he  told  Alice  of  her  he  had  chosen  —  of  her 
gentleness,  her  beauty,  her  sympathy,  and,  above  all,  of 
her  love  for  him.  She,  too,  had  suffered.  She  had  loved, 
and  lost  the  object  of  her  love.  She  was  a  mother  to  a 
boy,  whom,  in  her  fondness,  she  would  talk  of,  till  all 
listeners  loved  him. 

Alice  saw  at  once  how  worse  than  useless  would  it  be 
to  tell  him  all  she  knew.  So  entirely  was  he  infatuated 
by  the  strangely  fascinating  woman,  that  any  attempt  to 
undeceive  him  would  but  make  him  cling  to  her  the  more 
closely ;  and  so  the  words  died  upon  the  anxious  woman's 
lips.  With  pain,  both  she  and  her  husband  looked  forward 
to  the  future  of  their  friend ;  for  they  saw  how  bitter  must 
be  his  disappointment  and  self-condemnation,  when  he 
should  awaken  from  the  sleep  into  which  he  had  been 
charmed. 

From  her  childhood,  Alice  had  known  Flora  Darling 
ton  —  known  her,  to  fear  and  dread  her.  That  selfish, 
intriguing  spirit,  which  had  overruled  all  good  in  her  heart, 
were  there  any  good  to  overrule,  had  made  her  shunned 
arid  disliked,  even  when  a  child.  But,  as  her  dark,  selfish 
childhood  passed  away,  and  her  meagre  form  rounded  into 
womanhood,  her  dark,  thin  face  became  strangely  charming, 
and  it  seemed,  from  the  smile  that  played  about  her  small, 
beautiful  mouth,  that  she  was  changed,  too,  in  spirit.  But 
this  was  only  in  seeming  ;  yet  some  believed  this  possible, 


44  THE    MONTGOMERYS. 

that  the  selfish,  ill-tempered,  arrogant  child  had  become 
the  gentle,  kind  woman.  So  believed  James  Darlington, 
who  married  her  when  she  was  but  eighteen  years  of  age. 
The  failure  of  his  father  shortly  after  showed  to  the 
deluded  his  mistake  ;  for,  day  and  night,  the  disappointed 
woman  heaped  upon  her  husband  that  bitter  scorn  which 
could  alone  come  from  such  an  imperious  nature.  The 
consequence  was  what  might  have  been  expected.  Re 
pulsed  by  her  he  had  loved,  disappointed  in  his  prospects 
of  wealth,  his  feeble  spirit  naturally  sought  forgetful  ness 
where,  too  often,  the  sons  of  the  wealthy  make  shipwreck 
of  their  souls  and  bodies.  Night  after  night  found  him  in 
that  hellish  den,  where  man  soberly  and  deliberately  lays 
his  plans,  whereby  he  may  doubly  murder  his  fellow  man  ; 
and  when  he  returned  to  his  home  —  oftentimes  not  until 
the  stars  began  to  wane  —  his  unsteady  gait,  his  haggard 
face  and  bloodshot  eyes,  told  to  his  loathing  wife,  how  had 
passed  the  long,  dark  hours. 

So  rapidly  did  he  pursue  this  downward  way,  that  never 
but  once  did  he  pause  to  think  or  look  about  him.  Then, 
what  did  he  see  ? 

When,  for  the  first  time,  he  looked  upon  his  infant  son, 
for  a  moment  the  little  good  which  lingered  in  his  weak 
heart  seemed  to  revive ;  but  all  was  darkness  about  him. 
When  he  would  have  pressed  to  his  bosom  the  mother  of 
his  child,  with  a  bitter  smile  she  repulsed  him,  and  pointed 
him  to  the  "  drunkard's  beggared  son."  Never  again  did 
lie  remain  away  from  the  intoxicating  cup,  long  enough  to 
allow  mind,  for  one  moment,  to  hold  her  sway  ;  but  madly 
he  went  down,  and,  when  his  son  was  one  year  old,  the 
father  filled  the  inebriate's  grave. 

Not  many  tears  did  the  widow  of  twenty  years  of  age 
shed  over  the  grave  of  her  husband  —  the  father  of  her 


THE    MONTGOMERYS.  45 

child.  Her  heart  was  embittered  towards  him,  and*  She 
felt  a  relief  when  she  gazed  upon  him  lying  quietly  sleeping 
that  sleep  which  shall  know  no  waking  till  the  last  trump 
shall  sound. 

From  the  ruined  fortune  which  she  had  loved  and 
wedded,  a  meagre  competence  was  settled  upon  the  unhappy 
woman  and  her  son  ;  and,  hastily  arranging  everything, 
with  her  child,  she  left  the  scene  of  her  disappointment 
and  chagrin.  Her  own  family  had  learned  never  to  oppose 
her,  and  the  family  of  her  dead  husband  were  only  too  glad 
to  be  rid  of  one  who  had  been  to  them  the  cause  of  so 
much  unhappiness,  and  whom  they  felt  they  had  such 
strong  grounds  for  disliking.  Before  the  death  of  their 
poor,  ruined  James,  they  had  tried  every  means  to  get  the 
control  of  the  little  one  in  their  own  hands ;  but  the  miser 
able  husband  and  father  still  held  within  his  bosom  the 
vestige  of  a  ruined  heart  —  that  heart  which  had  once  loved, 
aye,  worshipped  the  heartless  being  who  could  look  upon 
his  last  agony  without  a  tear  —  and  he  would  not  take  from 
her  their  child.  It  was  to  the  home  of  a  brother  in  the 
North  that  she  went,  and  for  seven  long  years,  the  circle 
in  which  she  had  shone  so  brilliantly,  and  from  which  she 
passed  in  such  deep  disappointment,  heard  not  of  her. 

Then  she  came  among  them  again,  more  strongly  beau 
tiful  than  before.  It  was  then,  at  the  house  of  a  mutual 
friend,  that  Mr.  Ashland  met  her ;  and,  from  the  moment  of 
their  introduction,  her  whole  mind — her  every  thought 
was  bent  upon  one  thing,  to  win  him  for  herself ;  for  that 
beautiful  home  had  strong  attractions  for  her.  Little  had 
Henry  Ashland  learned  of  woman's  artfulness  from  his 
ingenuous  Helen.  He  fondly  dreamed  that  the  darkened 
hearth-stone  was  again  to  be  made  glad  with  light,  and 
that  his  lovely  daughter  would  find  a  mother  in  his  beau- 


46  THE   MONTGOMERYS. 

tiful,  dark  wife,  and  in  her  son,  whom  he  had  not  yet  seen, 
as  he  was  still  with  his  northern  friends,  a  play-fellow  and 
brother.  It  made  his  heart  happy,  that  he  could  make, 
for  the  son  of  her  he  loved,  a  home,  and  he  was  all  impa 
tience  to  have  him  sent  for,  that,  altogether  they  should 
enter  into  that  home  circle,  where  love  would  rekindle  the 
light  of  happiness.  But  the  reply  which  Mrs.  Darlington 
received  from  her  brother  to  this  home  summons  was,  she 
said,  they  could  not  so  suddenly  give  up  one  they  had 
come  to  love  as  their  own,  and  a  few  weeks,  at  least,  must 
be  given  them  to  prepare  for  a  separation  which  must  be 
so  painful. 

Henry  Ashland's  heart  was  touched  by  this ;  and, 
although  he  could  urge  no  further. the  immediate'presence 
of  the  boy,  he  was  more  than  ever  anxious  to  have  him 
with  them.  Bright,  indeed,  were  his  dreams.  Alas  ! 
that  they  are  doomed  so  soon  to  vanish  before  a  reality, 
so  cold,  so  heartless  ! 


THR    MONTOOMKRYS.  47 


CHAPTER   V. 

If  thou  hast  crushed  a  flower, 

The  root  may  not  be  blighted; 
If  thou  hast  quenched  a  lamp, 

Once  more  it  may  be  lighted ! 
But  on  thy  harp,  or  on  thy  lute, 

The  string  which  thou  hast  broken, 
Shall  never  in  sweet  sounds  again 

Give  to  thy  touch  a  token  ! 

— HEMANS. 

JUST  two  years  after  the  death  of  Helen  Ashland,  anoth 
er  woman  had  taken  her  name  and  place.  The  "  loved  and 
lost  "  was  not  forgotten  by  Henry  Ashland ;  indeed,  when 
for  one  moment  he  was  out  from  under  the  influence  of 
those  glorious  dark  eyes  of  his  charmer,  his  face  would  be 
come  unspeakably  sad,  and  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  he 
would  be  asking  himself,  "  What  would  Nellie  say  ?  would 
she  be  content  to  trust  the  happiness  of  her  husband  — her 
child,  with  her  I  have  chosen  1 "  Then  the  hand  of  his  en 
chanter  would  arouse  him,  and  in  tones  so  soft  and  almost 
sorrowful  would  she  reprove  him,  in  a  moment  he  was 
again  all  her  own. 

It  was  but  the  second  day  after  Mrs.  Ashland's  entrance 
into  this  new  home,  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montgomery,  ac 
companied  by  the  child  Helen,  made  their  first  call  upon 
her.  Strange  to  say,  it  was  the  first  time  Mrs.  Montgom 
ery  had  met  her,  who  now  was  filling  a  place  so  near  her, 


48  THE    MONTGOMKKYS. 

for  many  years.  Yet  she  came  to  her  who  was  to  fill  the 
place  of  that  lost  sister,  with  a  determination  to  welcome 
her  cordially  among  them.  But  the  cold,  haughty  manner 
of  the  bride  chilled  the  hearts  of  the  callers,  and  Mr.  Ash 
land  was  wounded  that  his  friends  should  meet  with  such 
a  reception  in  his  home  —  should  receive  such  a  welcome 
from  his  wife.  Little  Helen  she  received  with  a  small 
show  of  kindness  ;  but  the  sensitive  one  very  soon  turned 
from  this  new  mamma,  to  nestle  in  the  loving  embrace 
of  her  aunt. 

Mr.  Ashland  had  made  his  calculations  to  have  his  child 
stay  with  him  now,  and  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montgomery 
arose  to  leave  with  that  formality  which  was  chilling,  the 
child  sprang  from  her  father's  arms,  and  clung  determinedly 
to  the  dress  of  her  aunt.  The  distressed  look  of  that 
baby  face  was  quite  irresistible,  when  told  that  she  was  not 
to  go,  and  her  father  was  compelled  to  yield  to  the  little 
one  and  the  pleading  look  of  his  sister ;  but  it  was  with 
the  assurance  that  he  should  come  for  her  the  following 
day,  to  bring  her  to  his  home.  It  was  a  hard  trial  —  this 
giving  up  of  their  baby  —  to  every  member  of  the  family  ; 
but  her  father  had  the  best  right  to  her,  and  they  were 
compelled  to  yield.  The  poor  little  one  clung  to  that 
kindly  bosom  which  had  pillowed  her  head  as  lovingly  as 
could  her  own  mother's,  and  the  father's  heart  misgave 
him  as  he  tore  her  away ;  for,  although  he  would  not  ac 
knowledge  it,  a  doubt  did  arise  in  his  mind  with  regard  to 
the  happiness  of  the  future  of  his  precious  one  —  the  child 
of  his  lost  Helen. 

Two  or  three  times  he  had  seen  a  shadow  pass  over  the 
face  of  his  beautiful  Flora  —  a  shadow  which  changed  all 
so  strangely,  it  made  him  tremble  with  dread.  But  in  a 
moment  that  enticing  smile  would  drive  the  cloud  not  only 

XI 


HOME  USE 

CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
MAIN  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 
1 -month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-3405. 
6-month  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  Circulation  Desk. 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior 

to  due  date. 

ALL  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL  7  DAYS 
AFTER  DATE  CHECKED  OUT. 


MAY  10  197578 


Met  V4 


LD21 — A-40m-5,'74  General  Library 

(R3191L)  University  of  California 

Berkeley 


